I'm Used to Rose Petals, Not Salt Lines
by InsertPotterThemedUsernameHere
Summary: Dean & Tony just had an incredible night. Both have feelings for the man & intend to seduce the other. Then certain truths are revealed, truths for anyone to wrap their mind around. Throw in a meddling personal assistant, a disappointed father, and a monster bent on seducing & killing men-will Tony and Dean be able to start a life together? Second in "Supernatural Husbands" series.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **I'm Used to Rose Petals, Not Salt Lines

**Series: **Supernatural Husbands

**Summary: **Dean Winchester and Tony Stark just had an incredible night. Both have feelings for the man they met less than 24 hours ago, and both are intent on seducing the other. But then certain truths are revealed about the Supernatural, difficult truths for anyone to wrap their mind around, let alone scientifically-minded Anthony Edward Stark. Throw in a meddling personal assistant, a disappointed father, and a monster bent on seducing and killing me - will Tony and Dean be able to start a life together?

**Timeline:** Christmas 2002, Pre-Iron Man, Pre-SPN

**Warnings:** Slash, angst, hurt/comfort, Christmas, John Winchester

**Pairing: **Dean Winchester/Tony Stark

**Author's Note:** Here it is, the second installment of the "Supernatural Husbands" series, which will follow our boys through Avengers. There is explicit sexual content was cut and readers referred to AO3 to read it. Fanfic and AO3 will be updated at the same time.

Please enjoy!

Chapter One, "Christmas Morning"

When Tony woke up a couple hours later, he was half on top of a still sleeping Dean. He lifted his head off of Dean's chest, just to make sure his brain wasn't playing tricks on him and then relaxed back into the younger man, hugging him just a tiny bit tighter.

Last night when Tony realized what Dean was doing, his heart stuttered for a moment. He'd gone to sleep with all these plans shooting around his head like pinballs, plans to seduce Dean completely, get him to stay. The thought never crossed his mind that Dean would attempt to pull a Tony Stark and leave before he woke up. Then again, he hadn't quite had the same motivations as Tony did when he snuck out of bedrooms: he was leaving because he thought _Tony would want him to leave_... or at least that was what he said. But when Tony made it clear that he didn't have plans or anything, the younger man didn't protest too much about coming back to bed, so he was probably being truthful.

A glimmer of understanding flashed through Tony's mind: he'd have to make it abundantly clear that he wanted Dean here in his bed, in his home, in his _life_ if he wanted to seduce the younger man properly. If Dean actually believed that Tony wanted him to leave after that mind-blowing sex, then Tony was going to have to communicate better. Fuck, he'd never done this before, actually try for a relationship, and his communication skills, he was told often by many people, were shit. How was he going to do this?

Tony shifted, lifting himself up off Dean and studied the handsome young man and noticed the blanket tenting above his crotch. Ah, morning wood. Smirking, Tony figured that he should start with what he knew best: sex. Worship Dean like the Adonis he was. He could start on the communication stuff later.

*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*

*Smut Cut because of policies. Please go to my AO3 to read it. Basically, Tony wakes Dean up with a blow job and then they have intercourse with Tony topping Dean. It is sweet and hot and long - seriously 1,500 words cut from this puppy*

Dean was so blissed out that he was barely conscious enough to return the kisses Tony bestowed upon his lips. Soon he felt Tony pull away and out of him, and Dean only slightly whimpered at the sudden emptiness. He heard the condom being thrown in the trash and then Tony taking his hand. Dean opened his eyes and turned his head to see Tony standing next to the bed, looking at him with soft eyes.

"You are so gorgeous," Tony murmured, rubbing his thumb over Dean's knuckles. He leaned down, kissing the inside of Dean's wrist, causing a shiver to run down the younger man's spine. God the boy was a dream, debauched and spent in the middle of his bed. What he would do to keep him there! He had so many ideas, but maybe h could settle on one after breakfast – hey, that's actually a good idea, a good start. A way to a man's heart's through his stomach, right? At that thought, he straightened up and tugged on the man's hand.

"Up, up, up!" Tony said cheerily. "Shower, then how about I cook us some breakfast? I'll make omelets!"

Dean groaned, not really wanting to get out of bed, but slowly rolled over and off the bed anyway, only briefly wincing as he stood. However, it was long enough for Tony to catch sight of, causing him to frown.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Tony asked, reaching up to hold Dean's face in his hands, looking the younger man in the eyes, and man what beautiful green eyes they were...

Dean smiled, both with his lips and his eyes and leaned to give Tony a chaste kiss.

"With the way you prepped me?" Dean laughed, shaking his head. "It was amazing, Tone. I can't believe I'm able to stand after that, my legs still feel wobbly."

"Well then I'll just have to help you shower," Tony smirked, hands leaving Dean's face and one going to hold Dean's hand. "To make sure you don't fall and injure yourself. Can't be too careful."

"Like you were going to let me shower alone," Dean said, grinning as Tony just kept his smirk up, not even trying to act innocently, and led him to the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two, "Broken Eggs Don't Always Make Omelets"

Dean followed Tony to the kitchen after their shower – just washing and little making out, but no other funny business as both of them were spent – and made to help the older man, only to be shooed away to the breakfast bar. Gingerly, Dean sat down, relishing the tender pain caused by their coupling. He couldn't help a slight wince that overcame him as he settled, which Tony caught sight of.

"Are you sure I didn't hurt you?" Tony asked, taking his attention away from the coffee machine and onto his lover.

"Not really, no," Dean insisted, though it warmed him to know that Tony was concerned about him. "Just sore – the good kind of sore. You're not exactly small, Tone."

"I'm not, aren't I?" Tony smirked. Then the coffee machine beeped, indicating it was ready to be poured. The older man grabbed two mugs and poured the most delicious smelling coffee Dean's nose ever had the pleasure of inhaling. "How do you like your coffee, sunshine?"

"Black," Dean replied, and Tony's smile widened.

"Just my kind of man!" Tony exclaimed, pouring Dean a cup and passing it over. "None of that sissy sugar and milk stuff. Just amazing _Blue Hawaiian_." (1)

Dean took a sip and nearly moaned at the beautiful adventure his taste buds were experiencing.

"This. Is. Amazing," Dean said as soon as he was able.

"Should be," Tony responded, taking his own sip. "I pay $40 dollars a pound for the stuff."

Dean nearly spit out his coffee at that declaration.

"But that's – why?" Dean started, but couldn't articulate his amazement at spending that much money on _coffee_.

"Because I can," Tony answered, amused at Dean's response rather than annoyed. Usually he would snark when someone questioned how he spent his money, but Dean seemed more baffled at it than judging. "And it's _delicious._"

"No complaints or disagreements here," Dean said, confirming Tony's thoughts. "That's just – wow. So, what do you do then, to make that kind of money? I mean, you know about me, but I know nothing of you!"

Tony laughed and turned to the fridge to take out some ingredients.

"I almost forgot that!" Tony exclaimed, and turned briefly back to Dean, asking, "Omelets OK?" At Dean's nod he turned back to the counter and stove and began to cook. He continued.

"Well, I run a company – Stark Industries – started by my dead father. We create and manufacture weapons and technology. Our military almost exclusively uses Stark Tech, so our soldiers are out there fighting terrorists with the weapons I designed – oh, yeah, I'm the one who designs most of our weapons and tech. We have our own R&D – Research and Development – but they mostly test out my designs and send the bugs back to me to fix – not that there are usually any bugs, cause I'm awesome and – shit!" Tony yelled as the eggs burnt and started to smoke. Dean got up quickly to help as Tony threw the pan into the sink.

"Do you need help?" Dean asked, as Tony scrapped the burnt food out of the pan.

"No – I mean, yes – I mean," Tony stammered and then threw the spatula in the sink in exasperation. "How hard is it to make an omelet? It should be easy, you just break a few eggs –"

"Tone, just stop a moment," Dean interjecting, stopping Tony's rant. "You don't know how to make an omelet? Just nod yes and no," Dean added, when he saw Tony take a breath and open his mouth. Tony closed his mouth in surprise, and his shoulders slumped at the realization he was found out. He shook his head no.

God, step two of Operation Sunshine Stays – yes he just came up with that op name, and it's a good one, too – was a spectacular failure.

"Hey, it's no big deal," Dean said, wrapping an arm around Tony's waist and leaning down for a kiss, which Tony accepted. "Why did you try to make one if you didn't know how?"

"Well, I just thought that you'd like an omelet, and I didn't think it would be that hard," Tony said, not pouting. Because, really, Tony Stark does not pout; however, looking at Dean's sly smile, Dean didn't seem to believe that.

"I do like omelets," Dean said with a smile. "So, you were right on that point. But you didn't need to try something you didn't know how, just for me. How about I make us the omelets and you –" Dean continued, turning his attention to something behind Tony, "Why don't you got tend to the robot waving a wrench around."

"What?!" Tony exclaimed, then twirled around, sure enough seeing a small robot hovering at the edge of the kitchen waving around a monkey wrench. "Dum-E what are you doing out of the workshop? You know better, young man!"

As Tony walked over to the robot, Dean shook his head at the ridiculousness of his life at the moment and set about cooking breakfast on autopilot. Not only was he in the house of a rich guy who makes weapons and technology – including robots, apparently – but he slept with him and maybe... felt something for him.

Okay, maybe there was no maybe. The way Tony woke him up this morning and how he had prepared him – Dean felt worshipped. And even though Tony was fucking him, it wasn't fucking. Tony was sweet and soft and gentle at first, knowing just what Dean needed, in the boneless state that he was. And then speeding up and giving him the orgasm of his life! He loved it, giving Tony that control, letting Tony make love to him –

Wait! Dean nearly dropped the Tabasco sauce he was holding. That was what was different, last night and this morning. _Tony had made love to him. _Dean glanced at Tony who was still scolding the robot Dummy for something or another. He had heard the phrase on old TV shows, but he thought that it was just a stupid, womanly platitude that chicks said because they thought they were above fucking. But, maybe it could happen. Was that what making love felt like? Was that what Tony had intended this morning? To make love to him?

Did that mean that Tony returned his super-fast, out of nowhere feelings? That was an insane thought. He couldn't possibly have fallen in love that quickly, and even if he had, it would be a miracle if his love were returned. 1) It was super-fast, out of nowhere: they knew each other less than a day, bringing them to number two. 2) They only knew the Spark Notes versions of each other. 3) And, that was because they had only bonded over cars and sex. Yet...

Crazier things had happened. Hell, he dealt with crazy on nearly a daily basis when he was on a hunt. So what if he fell in love with a dude he just met? It was better than realizing the little girl on the playground is actually a shapeshifter that you have to take down. And if you believe his dad, he fell in love with mom instantly. What if this could be like his parents had it, before the fire, full of love and devotion? (2) Maybe if Tony felt the same way, he could have a chance at making this work – maybe if Tony had even a slight leaning towards something more than Dean, he could pursue it, make Tony fall in love with him, too –

"How's it going, sunshine?" Tony asked, behind Dean, making the younger man jump.

"Shit man, trying to give me a heart attack?" Dean asked, grabbing his heart dramatically.

"Oh please, give it a rest, drama queen," Tony snarked without any heat, smiling at his lover and wrapping an arm around Dean's waist, kissing his neck. "You're what – 21? If there's anyone around here who is going to have a heart attack, it's me."

"That's right, old man," Dean smirked and Tony huffed at him. "C'mon, you walked right into that! Anyway, I'm actually 23 going on 24 next month. What about you? By the way, grab us some plates; the omelets are ready."

Tony kissed Dean's neck one more time and went to grab plates.

"I'm 32 – see not that much an old man at all," Tony said, grabbing the plates and holding them out for Dean.

"You're right," Dean agreed, sliding the omelets from the pan and onto the plates. "You're not _'that much.'_"

"Hey!" Tony play-yelled as he set their plates down on the breakfast bar. "How dare you use my own words against me?"

Dean just laughed and gave Tony a chaste kiss before they both sat down and dug in.

Tony took the first bite and was amazed at how wonderful it tasted. It was hot, the food kind of hot that got your taste buds dancing and ready for more. In a word, it was _delectable!_

"This is _delicious_!" Tony professed, voicing his thoughts. "Is that Tabasco? And cilantro?"

"Yes and maybe – if that is what the leafy green thing is, yeah," Dean answered, relieved and warmed at the fact Tony loved what he made. Lost in his thoughts, he had pulled together a hodgepodge of ingredients together like he usually did. You don't get much choice on the road when Dad's been gone for two weeks and money's ran low. "I'm glad you like them."

"Like them?!" Tony exclaimed, continuing to shovel the food into his mouth. "I'd marry them if I could! Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"On the road," Dean answered, working on his own plate. Tony was right – it was good. Huh. Not too bad for not knowing what some of things he put in it were. "Dad was gone a lot, so I had to feed Sammy and me, and I just learned to chuck stuff together that smells right, and usually they taste right together. And I like Tabasco, cause it gives a nice flavor kick that usually would be there with onions, but we rarely had onions, so anyway, now I can't have eggs without it –"

"I can see why," Tony smiled, and Dean blushed when he realized he had been rambling. Tony didn't comment on it, just smiled, and continued to chow down.

They both made quick work of the rest of their food, and when they finished, Tony grabbed their plates and brought them to the sink. He then grabbed Dean's hand, pulling the younger man into his arms and kissing him hard. They were like that for several moments until Tony finally broke away for a breath.

"What you do to me," Tony panted. "First this morning and now your cooking? I'll be hard pressed to let you go, sunshine,"

Then don't let me go, Dean thought, but held the thought in, instead saying, "It's just eggs, Tone. No need to get worked up over eggs."

"Just eggs, he says," Tony state dramatically, shaking his head looking to the heavens. "As if those were just eggs – they were so much more than that!"

Dean just shook his head and smiled.

"Hey, want to go to my workshop?" Tony asked, turning his eyes back to Dean's. "Dum-E was worried about something, and while he is a worrywart and gets anxious about the littlest things, he may have a point about one of my projects (3). But if you don't want to, you could always hang in the entertainment room and watch –"

"Yes, I would love to see your workshop," Dean interrupted, grinning at Tony. The older man looked younger when he was flustered: it was cute. "Maybe I can check out the other room with you later."

The beaming look Dean received from Tony as the other man grabbed his hand and tugged him deeper into the house told him he made the right choice.

(1) Of course, referencing CSI's Greg Sanders and his passion for Blue Hawaiian coffee 3

(2) Yes, we know from the later seasons that John and Mary had rough patches, but to Dean, John mourning for decades clouds his memories. He sees John's devotion and love and just assumed that that was the relationship they had while Mary was alive. And children tend to see what their parents did as the norm, so it wouldn't be too OOC for Dean to try to apply that lens to his own relationship.

(3) In my head-canon, Tony can understand what all the beeps and whirs mean for all the bots, even if JARVIS is the only one who speaks English.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I know next to nothing about water heaters and computers, so forgive my less than realistic rendering of them.

Chapter Three, "The Kids Approve"

Tony dragged Dean down toward the basement workshop, excited to see what his new paramour thought of his work. This would be the test of whether Tony would put his heart on the line to turn this one-night stand into a relationship. His work was his _life and soul_: if Dean didn't have an interest in it, then he didn't have an interest in the Tony found beyond the sex and flashy car. Just an amazing sexual connection, nothing more. Filled with anticipation, Tony put in the code for the workshop and pulled Dean inside.

Tony wasn't disappointed.

Dean was instantly in awe of the room he was standing in. Unlike the rest of the house that looked tidy to the point of unlived in, Tony's workshop was cluttered with papers, computers, robots, and various projects. Although to someone like Sam or his dad would think it was unkept with things just strewn about – they were more alike than either would ever admit – Dean could tell it was an organized chaos.

"This is so cool," Dean said, eyes not able to stay in one place for very long.

"Good morning, Sir and guest," said a British voice coming out of nowhere, and Dean jumped looking around and seeing only Tony laughing.

"Morning JARVIS," Tony laughed, but brought Dean's hand to his lips and kissed it in apology. "Sorry sunshine, forgot to tell you. JARVIS is my A.I. – artificial intelligence. He is my right hand man, can do nearly anything – as he should, since I created him. JARVIS, I'd like you to meet Dean."

"Hello, Dean," JARVIS said.

"Uh, hello, um, Jarvis," Dean responded and looked at Tony with wide eyes. "Uh, wow." Trying to shake it off, Dean joked, "Anything? So he can make eggs without burning them? Because you don't seem good at that."

Tony pulled a face.

"Hardy har har, someone made a funny," Tony grumbled, but didn't seem upset about the teasing.

"Actually Dean, I have been making Sir's meals for the past few years," JARVIS stated. "As you have learned, Sir is not the best at feeding himself, only initiating food consumption 28.72% of the time–"

"Enough JARVIS," Tony interrupted, his ears turning red, "No need to over-share. And, it's not like I intend to miss meals, I am just busy working, earning money so I can upkeep your sorry-assed code–"

"So how does Jarvis feed you?" Dean asked, interrupting Tony arguing with thin air. It was kind of disconcerting. When Tony squinted his eyes at him, Dean squeezed his hand and added, "Look, I know I was teasing earlier, but I'm honestly curious. This is like out of _The Jetson's_. It's really cool."

"Well," Tony started, choosing to believe Dean's words and earnest face. "Usually JARVIS is throughout the house, and he has control over security, the kitchen appliances, communications, and the entertainment center. But I've been doing some upgrades – I want everything to be controlled through him. Like the bathrooms and showers – just tell him what temperature you want and it'll be instantaneous, no having to twist the handle around to get it to the right temp. Plus, I'm adding screens and keyboards in every room, so I can work from anywhere. I hoping to work on some holoscreens in the future to see if I can work without keyboards, cause those are a pain in the ass – carpel tunnel is a bitch – but at the moment that's what we have. And in order to do all this, JARVIS has to be down in the other rooms since I'm doing rewiring and shit. Here's the only place that is already updated, so he can be online in here. Plus, he stays mindful of the bots, well, except today that seems."

"Sir, I was unable to reach you, and Dum-E was the best recourse to contact you," JARVIS answered.

"Fine, JARVIS, but do you remember the last time he went into the kitchen," Tony whined. "He nearly fried all the circuits off himself trying to wash the dishes."

"He was just trying to be helpful, Sir," JARVIS replied, not phased by his creator's tone.

"Yeah, well his helpful is another person's bedlam," Tony muttered under his breath, but it was clear that everyone heard him, especially Dum-E.

The bot that Dean noticed in the kitchen had been impatiently whirring and moving its arm up and down during the conversation suddenly slumped and stopped making any noise. If Dean didn't know any better, he'd think the bot's feelings were hurt. Going with his instinct, Dean moved towards the Dummy and bent down, squatting next to him.

"It's OK, I'm sure Tony didn't mean it – you were just trying to help him out and didn't know better," he said, using the voice he often used on Sammy when he was little and Dad had hurt his feelings and petting the robot's claw. To Dean's surprise, the little bot, started whirring and beeping as if it was excited and moved his claw to pat Dean's shoulder. Some of the other bots behind Dummy started to whir and beep too, and Dean had a feeling if they could jump up and down that's what they'd be doing right now. The man turned his eyes to Tony, silently asking what was going on, and saw the older man's eyes shining.

"Dum-E likes you, they all like you," Tony said, totally not teary eyed. Could this guy get anymore perfect? Treating his firstborn like a person and not a machine? Dum-E was so excited, barely able to contain his bolts as he gushed about his new friend to his brothers, who all agreed that they liked their creator's new friend and wanted to be his friend, too.

"Oh, I'm, uh, glad," Dean said and stood, taking Tony's hand. He wasn't sure what he did wrong. Tony looked so emotional right now, and Dean wasn't sure what to do about it. Trying to lighten the mood, Dean asked, "What kind of name is Dummy anyway?"

"His name is Dum-E: D U M dash E," Tony explained, pulling Dean closer to him so he could wrap his arms around the man's waist. "I was sixteen when I created him. He's my first attempt at A.I., my first baby – his coding wasn't perfect, and he would hand me the wrong tools, etc. – a problem he still has today, actually, which is how I got the wrong transmission fluid for the Mustang – Anyway, point is, I was frustrated and ended up calling him Dummy all the time, and he started to respond to it. And so it became his name. But when I started creating other bots, I didn't want him to feel bad about himself, so I spelled it differently, hence Dum dash E. And in the end, I appreciate him for the code defect that he is."

"Was it OK, talking to him, then?" Dean asked, still feeling awkward. Maybe Tony was upset Dum-E and the others liked Dean? The man seemed to have a deep connection with these robots.

"Oh, yes, Dean, my sunshine," Tony said and leant up to give Dean a chaste kiss, thinking about his next move. There was no doubt now that the younger man had captured Tony's Grinch-like heart. They had an immediate sexual connection, and Dean had laughed at his corny jokes, cooked his breakfast, and comforted his precious first bot. The last was most important – yes, even above the sex. No one had ever treated his bots as more than machines: not Rhodey, not Obie, or even Pepper, who saw them the most. Tony instantly had an understanding about the women who refused to go out with him, because they had kids that Tony wasn't interested in knowing. He could never open up his heart to someone who treated his babies like they were nothing more than nuts and bolts – but Dean, he treated Dum-E so kindly and without prompting. Tony became instant mush at the sight.

Holding Dean, here in is inner sanctuary and surrounded by his children who were beeping their approval, Tony decided to be brave and throw all his plans at slow seduction out. He was Tony fucking Stark, and Starks were not afraid to make a move. He took both of Dean's hands in his own and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Dean, I like you," Tony started, still nervous despite his bravado. "Like, a lot. You are – I barely know you, but all I can think about is spending more time with you – And not just the sex, though the sex is _awesome _– but I just – I have a good feeling about us, about, there being an _us_, and – this is insane, I know, but I – I want you to stay. Not just for a day or for the week, but stay here with me, be with me, like as, a – a couple. If this is coming out of left field, then we can just forget about–"

Dean leant down, giving Tony a hard kiss, and pulled his hands away from Tony's so he could hold Tony's head. Tony moaned into Dean's lips, and their tongues twined together.

"So is that a yes?" Tony panted after a minute of serious making out, and when Dean smiled broadly, it was like he was pure sunshine to Tony.

"Yes! God yes, Tony," Dean said, moving his hands to Tony's back, pulling him closer and nuzzling his head in Tony's neck. When Tony had started talking, Dean's heart dropped. How many times had someone said, 'Dean, I like you, BUT...' in his life? Too many to count. But now, when the moment when it actually mattered to Dean, when he actually had feelings for the person, there was no 'but' – just an invitation to stay. Was this actually his life right now?

"I feel the same," Dean continued, lifting his head to look at Tony, who's smiling all the way to his eyes. "It's crazy! I know it is. The reason I tried to leave before was – well – after last night, I just knew in my gut I could – well – I could fall for you. And, I didn't know what you wanted and I was – I guess, afraid that you just saw this as a one-night stand. I didn't want to be _that guy_ who overstays his welcome. I just feel – right with you."

"It feels so right, more right than I've ever felt with anyone," Tony confessed, and Dean nuzzled Tony's neck again, both men loving how he fit there. "And I've got to be honest, I'm a bit of a slut. I've been with too many people to count, but I've never felt this connection that I feel with you. I'm not sure if it's lo– well, that word, because I've never felt that before – romantically at least. All I know is, I don't think there is anything that could keep me away from you."

With that last statement, Dean's wondrous high came crashing down into a chill. Shit. How could Tony say that there wasn't anything that could keep him away from Dean, when he didn't even know what Dean was? Tony had no idea Dean was a hunter – not the hunter of small furry creatures or bambis, but a _hunter. _Tony had no idea of the supernatural – had no idea about the countless arrest warrants out on Dean – had no idea that the Impala's trunk was full of weapons and holy water. How was he going to tell Tony? How could the man believe him?

Motherfucker, can't he catch a break? A guy all but confessed his love to him, and even that's ruined by the God-dammed supernatural.

He had to tell Tony. Now.

"Tony, I need to tell you –" Dean started, but was cut off by JARVIS.

"My apologies for interrupting, Sir and Dean," the voice said apologetically. "But the issue that I called Sir for is becoming more problematic. The code for the water heater is not correct."

"How is that a problem so important that I was needed urgently?" Tony asked, annoyed that his moment with Dean was broken over something so benign.

"It is important, Sir, since you had the computer programmed to turn on for Christmas, so you could, and I quote, 'Enjoy a present from myself to myself,' and it is has turned on," JARVIS said, with more sass than Dean thought a computer could have. "And it is currently deciding to turn the temperature up gradually. Within the next 20 minutes it will start to boil the water, causing the water heater to –"

"Blow up," Tony groaned, pulling away from Dean, and run to one of the computers Dean saw when he came in.

"Precisely, Sir," JARVIS responded.

"Dean, you might want to head out to the beach," Tony said, typing away at the computer. "It's a bit cold this time of year, but hey, you may be able to see whales –"

"I'm not going anywhere Tony," Dean answered, walking to Tony and putting his hand on the man's shoulder. His drama could wait until the crisis was over. "Things go boom, I don't want you to be here alone. Plus, you got an extra set of hands that know plumbing. How about you work on that while I figure out how to turn off the water manually?"

Tony looked at Dean like he'd seen an angel. He pulled Dean down for a chaste kiss.

"Yes – yes that's perfect," Tony replied, motioning Dean to wall of tools. "You find what you need, JARVIS will tell you the where to turn it off."

Together, they went about their missions. Dean was able to shut off the water, so the water heater would have no new fuel to explode on, and Tony found the error in the code – one damn mistype that Tony couldn't believe he'd made – and fixed it with two minutes to spare before it reached boiling point.

"The temperature is starting to go down, Sir," JARVIS stated, assuring the men that they had been successful.

Tony whooped and pulled Dean down into a kiss that turned into a make out session against his worktable.

"We make a good team," Tony said, after he pulled away to catch a breath. Dean nodded, panting as well, and put his forehead against Tony's. "So we can continue our conversation where we left off, or I could sit you on this table and suck you, Mr. Plumber, for a job well done."

Without letting Dean say a word, Tony grabbed under the younger man's thighs and pulled him up on the worktable. Dean's cock twitched and pushed against his zipper at the manhandling. God that was fucking hot.

As Tony knelt down and took Dean's cock out, swallowing him down – fuck does the man have a gag reflex? – all thoughts of telling Tony the truth about his life were forgotten.

**AN:** So gosh darn fluffy! I can't believe I wrote that much fluff!

Anywhoozle, to recap:  
-Dean and Tony profess their feelings for each other  
-They have only known each other less than a day  
-Dean has yet to tell Tony of the supernatural

What could possibly go wrong?

Be prepared for the oncoming angst storm - because next time, Pepper shows up very unhappy about this new predicament, and Tony runs a background check on Dean just to prove her wrong.

Oops.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four, "Never Try to Prove Pepper Wrong"

The next week was one of the most enjoyable times of both Dean and Tony's lives. Their time was spent working on the cars, tinkering with some of the projects Tony was currently working on, or in each other's arms. Both men couldn't get enough of touching each other; almost as if they needed constant reassurance that this was real.

Dean never found the right time to confess the truth to Tony about the supernatural. Although they had chatted a little more about their pasts, including Dean giving Tony his last name, which Tony had fun with ("Is that a Winchester in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"); the moment Dean would try to come clean, something else would come up. The food would be ready, the oil would spurt out of the car, the phone would ring, Tony would put his hand down Dean's pants – the missed moments went on. And to be perfectly honest, Dean didn't mind it.

What Dean learned over the past week confirmed his gut feeling: Tony wouldn't believe him. With the way the man talked about faith versus science and empirical evidence, the only way Dean would be able to convince his lover that he was honest and not crazy would be to show him. Have Tony witness the supernatural with his own eyes. Tony thought it was funny, how he read the papers front to back, but Dean tried not to let on how desperate he was. All he had to do was find a case here, and then Tony would believe him and accept him completely –

Dean squashed the crazy hope that kept bubbling within him, but it was hard. Tony was perfect, just utterly perfect. He could be sweet and gentle or seductive and mischievous, but either way put Dean first. And Dean thought he was good for Tony, too, if JARVIS and the bots were any indication. He made sure Tony ate three good meals a day, sleep more than five hours a night, and was surprisingly handy around Tony's workshop. More than one of his comments/questions about a particular project had helped Tony notice a flaw or how to make a remarkable improvement.

Tony had already known that Dean knew cars and plumbing, but after the second comment on one of his projects, the older man was very interested in Dean's ideas and how he thought about things. At first Dean felt very self-conscious. He remembered Tony said he had a PhD, and Dean was a high school dropout and had a GED he only got on Bobby's insistence. When he finally revealed that to Tony, the older man didn't shame him at all.

"Dean, I don't give a shit about fancy degrees," Tony had said, taking Dean's face into his hands to look him in the eye. "Just because someone has a fancy paper that says they have intelligence doesn't mean that they're smart. I doubt one of my R&D guys would have known anything about cars or plumbing, and then where'd I be? Where'd _we_ be? And what you said about the current electronic pulses having a negative impact on maneuverability for the prosthetic – it's genius. You seem to see things from a different angle than us 'book-learned folk'. Plus," he added, kissing Dean softly and then giving him an understanding look, "it's not like you didn't finish high school because you were stupid. Seems to me, circumstances made it very difficult, and you had to make a tough choice. A choice you thought best for your family."

Dean had never directly said what those circumstances were, but Dean realized he had given himself away; talking about working multiple jobs at a young age to make sure food was on the table when dad's money ran out. Heck, even taking care of Sammy most of the time, making sure he had all he needed to succeed was a job in itself. And taking care of dad on his bad days.

That was one thing that was left rather unspoken and skirted around for the most part: their fathers. Dean could tell from the very little Tony had told him that Howard Stark wasn't much of a father at all, focusing more on his work and leaving Tony to Jarvis the first to raise. Consequently, Tony didn't feel any loyalty or love to the dead man. The younger man didn't pry further or question it: he had his own daddy issues and understood why Tony would feel that way.

Dean's feelings toward his own father were a complicated mess. John Winchester never abused his sons, but he wouldn't win any father of the year awards. He was more of a drill sergeant than a father half the time and would often leave the boys for weeks on end, hunting and scavenging for information. And Dean wouldn't say he didn't resent it, because he did. He resented that he gave up so much of his life and all of his childhood to raising Sammy, resented not finishing high school to hunt and get jobs to support them, resented the nights he had to put John to bed after an alcoholic stupor and stayed up until morning to make sure the old man didn't roll on his back and choke on his own vomit... the list goes on.

Sammy had dealt with half the amount of shit Dean did and bolted, so why did Dean stay?

Because Dean understood – he had seen the flaming nursery, seen his mother burning on the ceiling above Sammy's crib, heard the cries, and smelt the smoke. Dean had been there for dad to over Sammy to run and saw briefly his dad try to save his mom. Dean had been there, cuddled next to him when John sobbed and sobbed for Mary, asking God why He did this. He remembered clearly how much dad struggled, suddenly the single father of two boys and the widower of a woman who died by supernatural hands. He knew why dad insisted on training them, to be prepared for what was out there at the sacrifice of childhood and standardized education; because what did it matter if you had a little league trophy or a high school diploma if you were possessed by a demon or ripped to shreds by a werewolf?

Basically, Dean understood that reason John Winchester had raised his boys the way he did was because he was terrified that he would have to bury them the way he did Mary.

And, Dean couldn't fault him on that. Yeah, his childhood sucked, but he's alive and prepared for the world out there. And, of course he would have felt better about his responsibilities if John had acknowledged all he did for the family, but Dean knew his dad loved him – loved him and Sammy more than a lot of fathers did their sons, especially with what Dean had seen of hunters. John could easily have left Dean and Sammy with friends and gone off in search yellow-eyes, like Dean had seen so many hunters do with their kids for their own white whale. But John loved them too much to give them up, too much to let them grow up ignorant to what was out there; even though it would have been a hell of a lot easier to go after the demon without the burden of fatherhood.

Sammy leaving the way he did, especially with what he said, was the utmost betrayal to John Winchester. In his mind, he had done the best he could by his sons, and his reward was an ungrateful smartass thumbing his nose up at all John had done. No matter what Sammy said, it was all his own fault that dad reacted the way he did: he deliberately pushed every single one of dad's buttons and acted all hurt and wounded when that combination led to the worst rage Dean had ever seen his life. The old man came within an inch of punching his youngest son, and only with the last bit of control did he send the boy away, disowning him.

It was the worst night of Dean's life.

After Sammy left, Dad hadn't spoken a word about him and would change the subject if Dean tried to. Only one time did he ever look regretful at what had happened, and Dean had only seen it, because he had walked in on a teary-eyed John at the bottom of a bottle of rum looking at a picture of six-year old Sammy who had been missing his two-front teeth. The morning after, both didn't say a word about it, just went about their business, working on their own cases

Even before Sammy left, Dean had been doing more independent cases than not. That was how he was able to drive over to California to try and see Sammy, something John would not have approved of, otherwise. It was how he was able to stay with Tony, without his father knowing.

However, that was about to change.

*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*

Dean woke up on New Years Eve, much like he had the past week: in Tony's arms tangled up in soft sheets. After some morning sex, a second round in the shower, and breakfast – Tony couldn't get enough of his omelets – he finally got around to looking at his phone, only to see he had one new voicemail.

Warily, Dean listened to it. Sure enough, it was John Winchester's rough tones come through the speakers.

"Dean, call me on the third line, I got a case for you."

Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and looked down at it. He knew he needed to call his dad soon, before the old man started to worry. The younger Winchester only made the mistake once of not returning a call within a couple of hours, before his dad had started hunting him down, thinking he'd gotten hurt in a hunt, only to find him in bed with a waitress. John Winchester had not been a happy man and had let Dean know that. After, once they both had calmed down – and Dean was dressed, the waitress having left as soon as the shouting started – they came to an agreement: if he did not respond within and hour when on a case, six hours when off, to a message, John would assume that he was in trouble. And, it did work to their advantage a couple of years ago when Dean had his phone mangled by a gang of ghosts and wasn't able to call for backup. His dad was able to track him down before one of the spirits was able to push him out of the attic window.

"What's up, buttercup?" Tony asked from behind him, startling Dean out of his thoughts. Tony wrapped his arms around the younger man and kissed his neck lightly in apology.

"My dad called," Dean said, and it was Tony's turn to be startled, if the way his body tensed was any indication. "Needs me to call him back."

"Are you going to?" Tony asked, a not-so-good feeling settling in his stomach. He was never a get to know the parents kind of guy, but the thought of John Winchester was even more worrisome. From the little Dean said of the man, he seemed like tough asshole that had been neglectful, albeit fiercely protective, of his sons. Tony's own experience with Howard was just plain neglect on the best of days and abuse on the worst. It made it really easy to hate the man when he was alive and forget the man now that he was dead. But, Dean was close to his father and still even lived/worked with him. Tony wasn't sure how John Winchester would factor into life he wanted to build with Dean. He had a feeling it wouldn't be good.

"Yeah and soon before he sends a search party," Dean tried to joke, but Tony got the feeling he wasn't joking at all. "I'm just – I guess, I'm not sure what to say. He doesn't _know_ about me, and I'm not sure how he'd react. And, he'd be expecting me to come back, but –"

"But?" Tony prompted when Dean faltered, his arms tightening around Dean a little bit more.

"But I don't want to leave," Dean said, his head falling back onto Tony's shoulder. "I'm just not excited about having that conversation."

"I can stay here while you make the call," Tony offered, kissing Dean's cheek. Dean moved his head, and then they shared some sweet, slow kisses, before Dean pulled away and shook his head.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, Tone, this is something I have to do on my own," Dean said and pulled away completely from the embrace.

"Understood, sunshine," Tony said, grabbing his own phone out of his pocket and sighing dramatically at it. "I have to make some calls of my own. Pepper's left me a dozen messages about this and that, and I might as well deal with them if I won't have you for company."

"It's just a phone call, Tone," Dean said, chuckling at Tony Drama-Queen-Extraordinaire Stark. "I'm not going anywhere except to the other room, so I can have peace and quiet while I'm on the phone. God knows you are loud enough when not talking with someone."

"Well, I can see when I'm not wanted," Tony sniffed at the teasing but gave Dean a quick kiss to show he knew it was in jest. "You stay, I'll be in the workshop. I can call Pep through JARVIS and see what she needs me to review on the screens down there. Come find me when you're finished." And after Dean's nod of agreement, Tony made his way down to the workshop.

Dean sighed and decided to cowboy up and place the call.

*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*

"Winchester."

"Hey, Dad."

"Dean, hey – you still in California? There's this case you can look into there –"

"Wait, Dad – you know I'm in California?"

"Dean, I'm not stupid. You take off right before Christmas; of course you went to see – to California. I get it, Dean. It's where, uh, palm trees are. Yeah. How were those... palm trees?"

"They, uh, looked happy"

"Looked? _Dean_ -?"

"Well, the, uh, palm trees don't return phone calls, so I went to visit anyway –"

"Of course you did."

"And, I uh, saw this gigantic palm tree. Looked happy. Tried to call him, but you know palm trees they don't –"

"Answer phone calls."

"No... Doesn't matter. Anyway, why are you asking? Every time I tried to bring up, uh, seeing palm trees, you wouldn't hear of it."

"Jim and Bobby, well, they kinda kicked me in the balls about it. Said even if I had problem, I, well, wasn't be fair to you. S'why I didn't say anything when I knew where you were taking off to. I know you needed to see him. I just didn't think that he wouldn't – anyway. What have you been doing then, if you're still in California? You do realize it's not bikini season right?"

"Very funny, old man. Yeah, that was, uh, something I wanted to talk to you about. I, uh, well –"

"Just spit it out, Dean."

"Imetsomeone!"

"Say that again?"

"I – well, I met someone."

[pause]

"Dad? Are you there? I said –"

"I heard what you said, Dean. Jesus, this was the last thing I expected."

"Me too."

"What have you told her?"

"Nothing, yet. I'm going to. I can't lie anymore –"

"Dean, it's been little more than a week since I last saw you, which means you just started this, this thing. You can't be that serious, yet! How sure can you be sure about her –"

"Dad, I'm – I'm in love."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Dean – you can't be in love that soon! You barely know her!"

"I am Dad, I know I am – and, um, he's not a, uh, her. I'm in love with a, uh, man."

[pause]

"Dad?! Are –"

"Yes, Dean I'm still here. Jesus Christ, Dean. Just give me a minute. [pause] Fuck, I owe Bobby a case of bourbon."

"What?"

"Well, when you were 17, Bobby came to me, told me to be prepared for the day you, uh, came out, but you seemed to have an eye for any skirt that would let you peek, so I told him he was out of his brain. We made a bet on it. Now I owe him. Shit."

"Wait, so that's all you got to say? You're upset you lost a bet? Dad, it took a lot for me to tell you –"

"What do you want me to say, Dean? You're my son, Dean, my first-born. I'm not going to stop being your dad, because you like cock. I don't give a flying fuck where you put your dick as long as you wrap it. But, Jesus, I didn't expect it. What were all those girls, then? You hiding? Trying to 'find yourself'? Because you sure fooled me."

"No – Dad, I'm not, uh, gay. I'm bisexual – well, pan if you want to be technical –"

"What the fuck is pan?"

"It's, uh, where a person finds any kind of person attractive. Pansexual. Shit, this is embarrassing."

"It's about to get more embarrassing. Dean, help me understand – because you've really thrown me for a loop today, and you need to give me a break – why would you want dick then, if you like pussy, too? I just – I don't get it."

"Dad – it's the person. Kind of like how you decided to marry mom despite there being all those other women out there. I mean, I love sex with women and, uh, men, but I just met him and feel great about everything. It just feels so right. Tony's amazing to me –"

"That his name? Tony?"

"Yeah. Tony."

[pause]

"Dad, are you there –"

"I swear, Dean, you ask me that again, I'm hanging up! Give a man a moment to think. [pause] So, you're going to tell this Tony about everything? Hunting, the supernatural? You trust he's not going to think you're a crazy one and kick you to the curb? You see this lasting? Because what I said before still stands. You've only known him a week, Dean. A week."

"I know, Dad. I get it sounds crazy. But, I just feel this deep connection with him –"

"Dean, sex can make you think that way –"

"It's not just the sex, Dad – which by the way, I don't want to talk about with you anymore, OK? We just seem to click, Dad, I can't explain it. I just – know."

"[sigh] Fine, you love him, but Dean does he love you? How do you know he's going to react OK to the truth?"

"I – he hasn't said it, not in so many words – but to be fair, I haven't either. You're the first one I told about, you know, loving him. But we both talked about our feelings, and how we want to live together –"

"Hold that right there – live together? _Dean –_"

"I know, Dad. I – It's not like I want to leave you alone, especially after – after what happened. But I'll take care of myself. Once Tony knows everything, I'll make sure he knows the protocols, too –"

"We'll have that conversation another time, Dean, because I don't like it. Not one bit. But, let's get back to the question I've asked in all manner of ways and still have no answer: _how will he react when you tell him_?"

[pause]

"Dean. Answer me."

"I don't know."

"You 'don't know' – you 'don't know' and yet you're willing to throw everything away, anyway? Because you need to tell the truth? If he turns you in to the cops, you'll be through, kid. I didn't come get you when you were 15, and I won't now that you're a man. Are you willing to put yourself out there? Potentially losing your freedom? Your life? Cause some of those states have the death penalty –"

"I get it, Dad. And, yes, I'm willing. He's worth it."

"Jesus Fucking Christ, Dean! I think you're being right stupid. I really do. You barely know this guy, say you love him, _want to move in with him_, not sure how he would take the truth about what's out there, and you're going to tell him anyway. I can't approve of this – I can't and I won't. You're man now, so you do what you want, but know that this is something I can't get behind. Not one bit."

"Dad, I'm not asking you to. I just – I just needed to tell you."

[pause]

"Jesus, Dean. [pause] Well. You do what you got to do, I guess."

[pause]

"What was the case you talked about?"

"Oh – there are mysterious deaths going about with men in their thirties and forties in Malibu. There have been three so far, men floating ashore with evidence they had fallen into the water from a high place like a cliff and drowned. Police think they're killing themselves. Tis the season and all that. I'm thinking it's a woman in white character, but I'm not sure. Can you check it out, or are you too busy with _your_ _Tony_?"

"Yeah, dad, just because I would be living here doesn't mean I can't help. I'll look into it. I'm actually in Malibu, so this works out."

"Good."

[pause]

"Well, goodbye Dad."

"Goodbye son – and Dean..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For telling me. I'm glad you found something, someone. Um. Good luck."

"Thanks Dad, it – it means a lot you're OK with it. With me."

"You're my son, Dean. You're a good boy, always have been. I just hope this doesn't blow up in your face."

"Me too, Dad, me too."

*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*

"JARVIS, connect call to Pepper."

"Connecting now, Sir."

[ringing]

"Mr. Stark, I've called you more than a dozen times –"

"Yes, Ms. Potts, I'm aware. It's why I'm calling you back."

"Why haven't you been answering me? JARVIS said you had a guest over –"

"JARVIS, you little traitor –"

"Tony, don't. Really, what's going on? How long has 'your guest' been there? Do I need to be worrying about another story of 'My night with Tony Stark'? Because I thought I would be able to end the year without having to craft another press release about that."

"For your information, _he's _been here a week, and we are having a grand old time."

"[sigh] I'm assuming you did a background check on him, per your agreement about multiple-night overnight guests."

"When did I make that agreement?"

"In 1999, after the three-nighter with the blonde waitress who was actually a corporate spy with Lockheed Martin. We all agreed it was in your best interest. Now answer the question Tony."

"No, but Pep – you don't understand! It was a chance meeting – and he didn't even know who I was! Dean doesn't have a corporate bone in his body – and believe me I've been thorough –"

"Spare me, Tony. And you actually fell for that? How could he not know who you are? – You're you!"

"Thanks, Pepperpot! If I knew you felt that way before, we could have had something, but my heart now belongs to Dean –"

"What I meant was that you are infamous and your exploits are all over the supermarket rags. And Tony, please tell me you're joking about your heart–"

"Actually, Pep... I'm not. I, I think I lo – I lo – I have strong feelings for him."

"Tony, you've known him a week."

"And it's the best week of my life! No one has ever felt this right, Pep! I get what people say now about, about love. I thought it was all bullshit before, but –"

"Tony, you have to acknowledge how ridiculous this is. You meet this guy a week ago, he doesn't recognize you, and now you're in love. If I weren't insistent on a background check before, I would be now."

"But, Pep, he's fine! I know he's fine! Dean doesn't have a bad bone in his body, I'd know, since I was –"

"Yes, thorough, I know. Listen, Tony, I need you to do the background check, even if it's just to prove me wrong. There is too much at stake for this to go wrong."

"What? Like my heart?"

"Well, that, but Tony, we can't have a huge scandal, not now. The company is in a decline, one wrong move and we can go under –"

"We have the contract coming up for the military, we'll be fine –"

"Tony, you barely got that contract – they almost went with Hammer Industries because of your exploits."

"Which I still don't understand – our weapons are better, more efficient –"

"And have your name on them. Anything you do is associated with your tech. If the public thinks the creator of the tech is a raging alcoholic party animal who has bad judgment in bed partners, how can they be sure that the tech was made with sound judgment?"

"Look, I get it _Dad_, but you don't understand! This is different. I want to start a life with him, Pep, I do, I really do. Dean is perfect! No scandals here, besides the what the homophobes write –"

"Then prove me wrong, Tony. Do the check."

"Fine! JARVIS, pull up what you can on Dean given the information you know."

"Scanning, Sir. [pause as files upon files appear the screens] Search complete."

[pause]

"Tony? What is it?"

"I'll have to call you back, Ms. Potts. JARVIS, disconnect call."

"Tony –"

"Sorry, your call has been disconnected. Please try the number again as dialed."

**AN:**

As you can see, this fic is about to earn its angst tag.

Tune in next time for Chapter Five, "The Salt Hits the Fan"!

It's already outlined, but I'm curious how you think Tony is going to react. Let me know in the comments.

Also, just to note, I deliberately wanted to portray John Winchester as not a homophobic, abusive bastard (as he is often depicted). I wanted him to be a well-rounded character, who'll win no father of the year awards, but did they best he could in the circumstances. And I wanted to explain why Dean felt connected to John and more understanding than Sam was. Family relationships can be complex and fucked up, and I tried to portray it realistically. This won't be the last we see of John, and more will be revealed later about John's mindset. Please let me know what you think of my characterization in the comments.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five, "The Salt Hits the Fan"

Tony stared at the screens in disbelief. This just couldn't be possible, couldn't be his Dean, his sunshine.

There were dozens and dozens of case files of open investigations, warrants out for the arrest of one Dean John Winchester, born January 21, 1979 to John and Mary (deceased) Winchester, 6'1", brown hair and green eyes. The crimes he was accused of span over 14 states and included fraud, mail fraud, credit card fraud, assault of a police officer, impersonating an officer of the law, obstruction of justice, robbery, grand theft auto, breaking and entering, trespassing, grave desecration, general assault, arson, manslaughter, torture, and first degree murder. Just on the murder accusations alone, there were individual homicides spanning ten states, and multiple – up to triple! – homicides in seven of them. The FBI even had a file open on him.

Accessing the FBI file, Tony read quickly over their assessment: Serial killer with an obsession with the occult. Killings ritualized, with salt circles, runes, and grave desecrations a common occurrence at their crime scenes. Father, John Winchester, suspected of same or similar crimes, some going back to when Dean was a child. Root of obsession: mother killed in house fire as a child, and father claimed it was the work of the devil/demon. Assumed: they work in partnership, believing their killing is righteous. Assume: they are armed and dangerous, cannot be reasoned with.

Tony just wanted to believe this was wrong, that they had the wrong guy, but the evidence – including security tapes with Dean's face picture clear – was piled high. It would be a slam-dunk prosecution if he was caught – there would be no way he wouldn't get the maximum for his crimes.

Saying that, though, there were no mug shots, no actual arrests except for one juvenile record for when Dean was 15. Looking at the picture of the young man, Tony's heart constricted. He was a baby, no matter how tough he was trying to look what with his bright green eyes and freckles smattering across his nose and cheek. He had been arrested for stealing _peanut butter and bread_ and then for assaulting the arresting police officer. Probably trying to feed him and his brother when the father's money ran out, Tony thought. The father refused to pick up, told them to let him do his time, and Dean was sent to a boy's farm.

The man who ran the farm, Sonny, an ex-con himself, said that Dean was a good boy and a hard worker. His grades went from Ds and Fs to As and Bs, and he joined the wrestling team and won state in his weight class. After a few months, John came back for Dean in the middle of the night and though Dean was reluctant, he ended up following his dad's orders. When interviewed by the FBI, Sonny made it clear that Dean was under the influence of John Winchester and that he wouldn't have done any of this if it weren't for the old man brainwashing him.

Tony couldn't disagree with that statement. The Dean he knew wouldn't do any of this by himself. Just, it didn't compute –

A sucked in breath behind him brought Tony out of his panicked thoughts and spun around to see Dean at the door of the workshop

Dean had paled considerably, his eyes stuck on the screens that held his police records.

"You said you weren't a serial killer," Tony said in a joking tone, the only thing he knew to do in this situation. "You know, when you picked me up on the road. I asked if you were a serial killer, and you said no."

"I'm not," Dean said, eyes finally breaking away from the screens and moving to catch Tony's. "I can explain, Tony – please, please, please let me explain –"

"You better, Dean, you better, because from where I'm looking there is no way you can explain out of this," Tony said, raising his voice, his eyes becoming glassy. "Because I did a background check only to prove Pepper wrong, that you were the genuine article, only to see – see this! My fucking God, Dean, this isn't petty crime – you are the main suspect in over twenty murders since you turned 18! How can you explain this away?"

Dean went to move toward Tony but halted when Tony took a step back, breaking Dean's heart a little.

"I was going to tell you, Tony – I promise, I was going to tell you," Dean said, not keeping the upset out of his voice. "There is this world out there – the supernatural is real. Ghosts, demons, werewolves, shifters, and monsters – all are real. Please believe me. It's all real! My mom – she was killed by a demon, burned on the ceiling above my brother's crib. My dad, he tried to track down what it was, and along the way, became a hunter – a hunter of the supernatural. We find cases, mysterious deaths, disappearances and see what's causing them –"

"Dean, please –" Tony interjected, not wanting to hear anymore.

"No, please, Tony, I have to tell you," Dean said and continued. "Sometimes it's a ghost bent on vengeance, so we salt and burn the bones to make sure the spirit crosses over. If it's a demon possession, we try to exorcise the demon, but sometimes the demon's run the body down so that the only thing keeping it up is the demon itself, and when they leave the person is dead. We don't kill people, we don't hunt people – we go after the supernatural that are after people. We protect them."

"You really believe that, don't you," Tony said softly, coming to a realization. John Winchester had brainwashed his son _good_. Dean truly believed that he was battling against monsters and ghosts. By God, Tony had fallen in love with an insane serial killer.

"Yes, Tony, because it's the truth," Dean cried, not able to stop the tears. "Please tell me you believe me! Please! I know it's just been a week, Tony, but you've been so good to me, we have this connection – and I care so deeply for you, I lo-"

"Don't say it," Tony interjected. His heart couldn't take hearing those magical three words at a time like this, not with what he would have to do. "Dean, sunshine – it's not possible. The supernatural _isn't real_."

"But it is, Tony!" Dean exclaimed, his tear tracks only increasing, arms wrapping around himself. This was so wrong – this was the worst possible scenario that could have happened. He had just got off the phone with his dad, hell-bent on figuring out a way to tell Tony properly – maybe with the case coming up – hey wait a minute! "Tony, I can prove it to you – there's this case and you can see -"

"No!" Tony bellowed. "No, because Dean, there is no such thing – Dean, I can't do this with you –"

"Please don't say that, Tony," Dean cried, falling to his knees. Dum-E came over and patted Dean on the shoulder, whirring in concern at his second favorite friend.

"You need to leave, now," Tony said, turning his head away from the sight that was breaking his heart. "I won't – I won't call the police. You – what your Dad told you are lies. There is no such thing as monsters or demons – if you want help, I can get you help, just call JARVIS's number – but we – we can't be a we, Dean. Please – just go. Don't make this harder than it is."

"You said – you said there was nothing that could turn you away from me!" Dean shouted, standing up on wobbly legs. He felt the Earth had been taken out from under him.

"When I said that, I was thinking daddy issues or a lack of education – not fucking murder! You're insane!" Tony shouted back, starting to get angry. Why the fuck should he feel guilty? Dean was the one who kept his criminal past from him. "Even if I believed you, how could we have started a life together? You may not have known me, but the majority of the population sure as fuck do! And when the press eventually got their hands on us – and they would – in a New York minute they would realize what you are, and you'd be in prison! This can't work!"

Dean just stood there, staring at Tony, his words sinking in.

"And what am I, Tony?" Dean asked softly, his whole body deflating. Tony couldn't speak, unable to voice the words that kept flying through his head. _Serial killer_. _Crazy_. _Murderer_. Dean continued after Tony's silence. "I know what I am, Tony. I am a hunter who protects people from the evils of this world and the next, who has saved countless lives from creatures that go bump in the night. This past week, I also became the guy who fell in love with Tony Stark. What are you, Tony?"

With that, Dean left the workshop, leaving Tony to stare after him. Only after the door closed, did Tony answer Dean's question.

"I am the man in love with Dean Winchester," Tony whispered, putting his head into his hands and sobbing.

"Sir, Ms. Potts is on the line for you," JARVIS spoke, sounding more tender than a computer should. "Do you want me to connect or say you are indisposed?"

"The last one," Tony hiccupped, and he moved toward his liquor cabinet he kept in the corner of the lab. "JARVIS, do not give information on Dean Winchester to anyone – and I mean _anyone_, not even Pepper. Act as if you do not know he exists or that he was ever in my vicinity. If you reveal him, he could – he could go to prison. I can't – I can't be the one to do that."

"Understood, Sir," JARVIS replied and all of the open files on Dean were closed and any indication they had been downloaded permanently erased.

Taking out the scotch, Tony slid down the floor and opened the bottle, taking a huge gulp straightaway. And here he thought he would begin the year anew embarking on a new journey with a happily ever after. All of those plans gone up in flames, now. Love at first sight, true love, finding the one – all of it was shit. He should have known better.

Tony Stark just couldn't have nice things.

"Sir – Ms. Potts wanted you to know that while she may understand why you're indisposed, you are scheduled to be at the Maria Stark Foundation's New Year's Eve Ball tonight," JARVIS said. "Do you want me to have her cancel –"

"No," Tony said, taking another swig. He looked at his watch. It was only 10:30am; he still had another twelve hours before he had to be at the party. "Tell her I'll make it."

"Sir, you had traumatic morning, I'm not sure if it's wise –" JARVIS started.

"No, I'm going and that's final," Tony said, looking despairingly at the bottom of the bottle. "Maybe it's just what I need, some fresh air."

*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*

Dean gathered his things and the newspapers from the last week, and made his way to the Impala. Once he was sat behind the wheel of baby, Dean was cried out. All he felt was empty inside. Lethargically, he turned on the ignition and pulled out of the garage, hitting the road. As Tony's home became smaller in his rearview mirror, Dean's heart split even more.

Why couldn't Dean have nice things?

Dean found a motel after about an hour – it was more difficult than you'd think to find a cheap motel in Malibu – and once 'Malcolm Young' was checked in, he flopped onto the bed.

It was all over so quickly. Dean was so worried about explaining the supernatural, that he didn't think how his criminal record was going to affect how Tony saw him. And fuck him, but Dean understood why Tony wouldn't want to be with him anymore. It made sense with what he thought he knew of Dean – but it still burned so badly to hear him say the words, to be kicked out of Tony's life just when he was starting to hope he could stay there.

If only Tony could believe him – if only Dean had proof...

Dean sat up from the bed. That's what he needed to do, go back to his original plan: find a case and show Tony that the supernatural was real. Maybe if they could jump that hurdle, they could –

He went over to his duffle and took out the newspapers he had taken from Tony's. Dean didn't think the older man would miss them, since he never actually read the papers, as Tony had JARVIS fill him in on the day's top news and stocks. Knowing what his dad had said about suicides, Dean scoured the papers again and found the various articles about the men whose cliff-side jumps were attributed to depression, anxiety, marital strife – He missed them the first go around on reading the papers, because he was looking more for unexplained murders or mysterious deaths, not suicides.

The men were all in their thirties or forties who were either single or separated at the time. The time of death was always between 11:30 and midnight.

After writing down the names and important information in his notebook, Dean got out his FBI badge and suit and went about getting ready. Minutes later, standing in the front of the mirror in his suit and tie, Dean tried to ignore his emotional exhaustion and prep himself for the hunt.

The sooner Dean tracked down this monster, the sooner he could prove Tony wrong... And maybe, just maybe win him back.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six, "The Investigation and the Invitation"

Dean left the motel and headed for the Malibu Police Station – and it was by and far the swankiest station he'd seen in his lifetime, like something out of _Beverly Hills Cops_. Taking a breath, Dean got out of the car and headed into the station, walking as tall and confident as possible. Once inside, he spoke with a receptionist who pointed him in the direction of the officers who handled the suicides.

"Hi, I'm Malcolm Young with the FBI," Dean said once he reached the two officers and showed his badge. "I'm here on account of those three suicides you had out here in the past week."

"Aren't you a little young to be an FBI agent," said the older officer, his Tom Selleck mustache twitching in suspicion. "And 'Malcolm Young' the name of one of the guys from ACDC?"

"My mom was a fan," Dean said, giving a good roll of the eyes. "She was excited when she married into being a Young and got to name me Malcolm. Never lived it down in school –"

"Which doesn't look like was too long ago," added the younger one, more of Barney Fife (1) character.

"Look, I won't deny, this is one of my first cases solo," Dean said and got out a business card, handing it to the older one. "You can call my boss, he'll confirm that despite my youth, I am indeed a FBI agent."

The older man looked warily at Dean, but took the card and called the number.

"Hello, this is Officer James Thompson of the Malibu PD," the older man – Officer Thompson – said into the phone. "A guy claiming he's one of yours showed up, a Malcolm Young. Yeah, uh-huh, uh-huh – your right, he is a pretty boy" Dean rolled his eyes at that "but he'll get the job done? Well, all right. Thanks a lot. Uh-huh. Good day to you too. Just give me a moment –" Officer Thompson took the receiver and passed it to Dean, "He wants a word with you, son."

"Yes, boss?" Dean asked, taking the line.

"Boy, your daddy came here saying that our bet's off cause you're a saucepan," Bobby gruffed. "Now what the fuck did he mean by that –"

"Yes, sir, understood sir," Dean said, ignoring Bobby's questions. He didn't have time for this. "I'll be sure to report straightaway once I have information. Bye." He then promptly hung up and turned back to the two officers.

"Now that we have that covered," Dean said, and the officers looked kind of sheepish about it. "I want to talk to you about those suicides. There's been talk that it's kind of suspicious that there would be three suicides in the same manner in one week, especially because of the manner of death."

"You know, I felt the same thing," the Barney Fife officer piping in. "All three falling from the cliffs –"

"But the forensics show they weren't pushed," Officer Thompson interrupted, glaring at the younger officer. Clearly this wasn't the first time they'd have this argument. He then turned to Dean. "Look, agent – it may seem suspicious, but there is no indication of foul play. The body's showed no sign of being pushed or fighting an attacker. All had reasons for offing themselves: the first had just broken up from his wife after catching her in bed with someone, the second had been romantically rejected by a 'love of his life'; and the third had just found out that after all the money he spent on his kids' presents – money he didn't have – his kids still didn't want to see him. All of them were at one party or another at a cliff-side Malibu home, probably felt sorry for themselves, feeling all alone amongst so many happy people, that they chose to jump. It's common enough around the holidays – in-laws driving you insane, mountains of debt from 'Santa's presents', and the loneliness from not having someone special to enjoy the festivities – you get the picture."

'Barney Fife' nodded along, melancholy at the statement.

Dean looked at them, assessing their appearance. Both were just officers, not detectives – detectives had more important things to deal with than suicides – and their uniforms were a bit threadbare. No fancy watches or jewelry of any kind; the younger man just had a wedding ring and the older man a tan line where a ring once was. Taking this information, Dean decided to make a leap.

"Well, even though you are more than likely correct," Dean said, putting some exasperation into his voice, "You know how those Richie Rich types are – even though they have all the money in the world, they want more. The insurance companies won't pay out on a suicide, so one of the widows is trying to make this a murder, called a friend in the FBI about it, so they sent me here. I'm sure I'll find just what you did, but I still got to check it out. Will you help me out?"

Dean did an internal fist pump when the officers nodded along and rolled their eyes, and the older one got up and mumbled "Shoulda known" through his mustache as he got up and grabbed the files from the cabinet behind them and handed them to Dean.

"Man I hate it when those types interfere in police business," Officer Thompson said, as he handed the files to Dean. "We had something last week where this woman's BMW was scratched by a kid's bike, and she wanted the 6 year-old arrested for vandalism. They think they can throw their money around and just get what they want. It's sick. I don't like this, but I can't fault you – you're just doing your job."

"Exactly," Dean said, putting his hand out for a shake, which was returned. "Thanks, man. Like I said, I highly doubt anything'll come of it – My boss thinks the same, otherwise he'd have sent more than just me out here, y'know? If for some reason, something pops up, give me a call at this number," and wrote out the number of his current burner phone on a scratch piece of paper. "Thanks again."

With a small salute, Dean left the police station and got into the Impala and drove away. He may be confident enough to walk into a police station impersonating an officer when he has so many warrants out, but he's not stupid as to stay there any longer than he has to. He drove back to the motel, but stayed in the car as he studied the case files.

Each were strikingly thin as it was immediately assumed that the cause was suicide – and were backed up by the medical examiner's report illustrating that there were no indications of bruises from pushing a grown man to his death or any indications he had fought an attacker. The trauma indicated that two had broken their backs upon hitting the water and drowned while the third and broken his neck on the rocks he hit along the way into the ocean.

Eye witnesses all proclaimed the same thing: the men seemed depressed and were coping through alcohol. Right after they got their meals, they became more cheery. In hindsight, this was attributed to their having decided to kill themselves, thus easing their anxieties. Each, between 11:30 and midnight, excused themselves to go outside for some sea air. No one thought anything of it until the men didn't come back.

There was one witness to the actual jumping. The third man had left to go outside and a woman who was interested in him romantically thought she could get a moment alone to speak with him. It was like he was in a trance, staring out at the sea. When she saw that he started to climb over the railing, she screamed at him not to do it, but he acted as if he didn't hear her. Before she could run to him, he was gone.

This testimony sealed it for the officers that this was a tragic coincidence of suicides and that foul play was not involved.

Dean took out his phone and called his dad.

"Winchester."

"Hey Dad, I've been investigating the suicides you sent me on."

"Oh yeah? Whadja find?"

Dean then relayed the information he learned.

"Seems to me we have a siren on our hands."

"That's what I was thinking, Dad – but what I thought they sung to sailors to have their chips crash on the rocks, not lure single men to their deaths."

"Those are the Mediterranean sirens. Other types of sirens have other patterns. This sounds like one that feeds directly on man's desire. All these men were depressed, right? Then they meet someone who entrances them, makes them feel valuable again – the siren feeds on all of the desire coming from the man. Then sends them to commune with sea – it's kinda a religious thing. I'll do more research and see if I can come up with anything, but if I'm right about this you don't have much time. There's going to be another victim tonight."

"How did you work that out?"

"They do this fours – it's ritual – and there's been one on the 25, 27, 29, and now it's the 31. Dean you need to catch it tonight or we'll lose it –"

"And to save the sorry bastard."

"Right, that too. Look, these things feed on the depressed, so you should be good as you're _in love_ –"

"About that..."

"_Dean_? We only spoke this morning, how could things have changed, so quickly?"

"You, you were right – about telling him the truth."

[pause]

"Dad, please, I don't want an I told you so."

"I would never – actually I would, but let's not get into it. How are you not arrested?"

"He let me go, said you brainwashed me, so it wasn't my fault. Said even if he believed me – which he didn't, _not at all_ – he still couldn't be with me because of my record. He's too much in the public eye for them not to run a background check on his boyfriend."

"_Oh Dean _-"

"Dad, just please – I can't do this today."

"Fine. Well – I, uh, guess you should get some earplugs, just in case. You don't fit the profile, so you probably wouldn't be the target, but if you're fighting the thing – better to be safe."

"Right. So how do I fight this thing?"

"I'd say iron is you best bet. Pierce the heart with an iron stake. You still got some?"

"Yeah, Dad, I do – they're right where you packed them, next to my pudding cups and thermos –"

"Look wiseass, you should be grateful I helped organize that trunk for you. The way you had it, you'd never been able to find anything –"

"Right, right – anyway, so where should I be looking for the next hit?"

"How should I know? You're the one investigating this thing, not me. You want me to do your job for you? Then what's the point of you _being independent_ and _having your own case_?"

"Look, Dad, I get it. Jeez, sorry for asking."

[pause]

"Well, I gotta go –"

"If I was you, I'd look for another party on the cliffs. That's where all the vics were when they tumbled."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Don't mention it. [pause] We're going to need to have a talk, Dean, about what happened –"

"Fine, fine, just not now, okay? If I'm gonna track down a swanky party and figure out how to get in, I'm going to have to get going. Talk to you later, old man."

"Later, Dean."

Dean hung up then leant his head back on the seats.

"How in the hell am I going to find the party, let alone get in?" he asked himself.

"Maybe I can be of help, Dean?" a voice said from the console.

Dean nearly jumped out of his seat and through the roof.

"What the fuck?" Dean cried out, looking around. "Hey – wait – is that you, JARVIS?"

"Yes, Dean," JARVIS said. "May I assume that Sir did not inform you he installed me into you vehicle.

"No – he sure as fuck did not!" Dean exclaimed. "Why would he -?"

"Sir had wished that you would never be without some assistance," JARVIS said. "It was meant to be a present for you. In the circumstances, I believe he has forgotten that he placed me here."

"No shit," Dean responded and sighed, putting his head on the steering wheel. God, even Baby had betrayed him. "So are you going to turn me into the police? Because at least give me a head start –"

"No, Dean, I have no intention of doing so," JARVIS said. "Sir has made it clear that he does not wish to do so, and I follow his orders. In fact, Dean, I wish to help you in your cause."

"Why – why would you help me?" Dean asked, bewildered. "Tony made it quite clear he was finished with me –"

"Based off a false premise," JARVIS interrupted. "I have looked into any and all information I could find, Dean, on what you said and your past actions. By my calculations, there is a 63.7% chance you are being truthful based on the evidence. Certain instances defy scientific explanation."

"Right, but – help me out JARVIS," Dean pleaded. "And I hope you're not, well, offended – but how can you believe me when you're a computer and Tony, well –"

"Sir holds certain biases against the 'supernatural' as you called it," JARVIS stated. "I however hold no bias and make judgments based off of the information that I have collected. No offense was taken, Dean."

"Why do you want to help me, JARVIS?" Dean asked again.

"You were very beneficial for Sir's health and illustrated no danger to him or to his creations, even when he ordered you to leave," JARVIS stated. "You made sure he ate and slept adequately. You were also a source of stability and made sure he was constructive rather than destructive. You were also of great help to him in the workshop and interacted with myself and the others in a respectable manner –"

"How is Dum-E?" Dean asked, worried after the little guy. He seemed upset when Dean had left, but Dean had been so upset himself that he didn't think of it until now.

"Dum-E is sad," JARVIS stated after a moment. "He wanted me to communicate to you that he wishes you and 'Daddy' would stop fighting and that you would come home and play with him."

Dean laughed despite himself and rubbed his face with his hands.

"And what about you, JARVIS?" Dean asked. "Do you want me to come back?"

"I do not feel want, I only do has my Creator has instructed and what is in His best interest," JARVIS said. "However, in stating this, I have computed it is in Sir's best interest that you return, yes."

"How would we do that, though, JARVIS?" Dean sighed. "Tony made it abundantly clear what he wants."

"As I stated before, those were under false assumptions," JARVIS said. "Yet, the only order he has given me is to make sure the information on you does not spread to anyone besides him and myself. He has not ordered me to not be in contact with you or not to help you. As such, I believe the most efficient way to ensure your reinstatement in Sir's life is to help you with your current case.

"I took the liberty of listening to your phone call, and with that information I have narrowed down the possible locations of this evening's party to four out of a possible 19 New Year's Eve parties happening within Malibu. Those three are the only ones that are on a cliff-side mansion. Running the credit card details of the first three parties, the one common element was the same catering company: 'On the Seas Seafood Catering Co.' Out of the four cliff-side mansion parities, only one is being catered by that company: Patricia DeLay's New Year's Soiree."

"That's great, JARVIS!" Dean said, excited to have a place to go. "Any suggestions on how to get in."

"I have just sent an email from a casting director to the bartender, Martin McGrath, for the soiree, stating that they have to meet tonight if he wants a part in the new Superman movie," JARVIS said. "He has opened the email [pause] and is now emailing his employer stating he will not be able to work tonight because he is ill. [pause] I have intercepted the email and included a sentence about calling his bartender friend Dean Westchester about the event and that he would be happy to step in. [pause] I believe you should be receiving a call shortly –"

Dean's phone began to ring and he answered it.

"Westchester."

"Hey – are you Dean?

"Yes – are you Marty's boss? He said I might hear from you."

"Yes, yes – can you work then?"

"Yes, I'm available."

"Great! When I saw the email, it was the last thing I needed to deal with today!"

"I understand – New Year's and all – so what time do you want me there? And can I have directions?"

"If you can be there by 7:00 it'd be great. We don't actually open the bar until 8:00, but we need to set up. Here's the address –"

Dean took down the address.

"Thanks for calling, I'll be there right on time."

"No, thank you – and don't forget to bring your I.D.!" and with that she hung up.

"A Driver License for Dean Westchester is being printed off as we speak," JARVIS said as Dean opened his mouth to bring up that conundrum.

"How am I going to pick it up from the house?" Dean asked. "Tony said I had to leave –"

"That is true, and I cannot defy Sir's direct order," JARVIS agreed. "However if you pull up in front of the gates, Dum-E can bring you the identification."

"You sure?" Dean asked. "How will Tony not notice that?"

"Sir is currently no longer in the workshop but indisposed in his bedroom," JARVIS said. "He will be there until 7:00, when he starts to prepare for Ms. DeLay's Soiree. There is statistically no chance that he will notice our actions."

"You think of everything, don'tcha JARVIS," Dean said, and then sat up straight. "Wait – did you just say that he's going to the party?"

"The soiree, yes," JARVIS said, gravely. "He refuses to stay at home tonight and will not let me convince him otherwise or speak about your statements. It was another reason why I decided to help you. Sir fits the type the siren targets."

Dean's stomach dropped. He thought his day couldn't get any worse.

(1) Barney Fife is a famous character portrayed by Don Knotts on the "Andy Griffith Show". According to wikipedia, "Calling a police officer or authority figure "Barney Fife" has become an American slang term for gross ineptitude or overzealousness."

AN: Thank you to my friend Jenna for the saucepan joke, and thanks to commenters Irda and carla888 for inspiring me to include JARVIS in Baby - which helped me bridge a plot gap that I had been struggling with.

See, if you comment, you might end up helping with the plot ;)

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Dean-centric this time, but don't worry, Tony will be back in the next one. Please let me know what you think will happen. It's fun reading your theories :)

Tune in next time for "Waiter, Waiter! Where's the Water?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven, "Waiter, Waiter – Where's the Water?"

The most difficult part about going back to Tony's house and picking up the I.D. card was having Dum-E let him go. The little robot had whirred and beeped excitedly outside the gate, holding up the card in its claw. Once Dean had taken the card, the devious little thing moved his claw to get a grip of Dean's jacket.

"Buddy, you need to let go – Hey!" Dean started to say, and then Dum-E started to move backwards and dragging Dean toward the house, whirring and whirring, sounding like whines to Dean's ears. "Stop – Dum-E, I said stop!"

At Dean's firm tone, the bot did stop. He beeped meekly but stubbornly kept ahold of Dean's jacket.

Dean sighed and knelt next to the bot. Over the past week, Dean had grown close to the little bot. He kind of reminded Dean of Sammy when he was little: excited to help out, even though most of the time his help wasn't actually helpful. _And at least he wouldn't grow up to be an entitled asshole_, said the little voice at the back of Dean's mind. Shaking the thought from his head, Dean pet the bot.

"Look, I know you want me back, but Tony doesn't want me there at the moment," Dean said, and Dum-E beeped indignantly in reply, tightening his grip. "I know, I know. It'll all be OK, Dum-E. I may be able to convince him to let me come back, but first I have to solve this case, OK? And to do that, I'll need you to let go."

Dum-E whirred and beeped in protest but did slacken his grip, letting go of Dean.

"I'll do my best, OK?" Dean said and patted the bot's arm. "I just need you to cowboy up, OK, little man? You make sure Tony and the other bots are taken care of while I'm gone."

Dum-E nodded his claw up and down, beeping and whirring in a way that Dean thought he understood. With that, Dean stood up and went back to his car. As he drove away, Dum-E waved Dean goodbye and, God help him, Dean waved back at the little bot.

After about ten minutes of driving, JARVIS spoke up.

"Dum-E is asking what you meant by 'cowboy up' – what did you mean by this phrase?" JARVIS asked.

"Ah, well, it means to suck it up, remain strong during a time where it may not be so easy," Dean replied and then brought up something he had been thinking about. "Hey, by the way, JARVIS – how were you able to print off an I.D. card for me? It's an excellent forgery – I don't think I've ever seen anything this good."

"Before Sir turned 21, he wished to go to areas of entertainment and leisure that only served those of legal drinking age," JARVIS responded. "He created a bot that would make an identification card that would pass as legitimate. The bot has since been used for other reasons, but she is still programmed for the task and there was still material left over for her to use. All I had to do was pull up the California Department of Safety's new requirements for watermarks, etc. from their records and it was a simple procedure."

Dean whistled at that.

"Remind me to call on you next time I'm on the run, JARVIS," Dean said.

"One would hope that day will never come," JARVIS said, "if you are successful in your mission."

Dean's only reply to that statement was to grip the steering wheel a little tighter.

*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*

"Sir, it is 7:00 pm," JARVIS said, startling Tony out of his drunken sleep.

Tony blinked, realizing he was drunk and feeling really, really shitty. What happened? He hadn't felt this wrecked since the car accident where he lost mom and Jarvis. Where was Dean – fuck! Tony wallowed deeper into his pillows.

Dean was gone. And Tony sent him away. Because Dean's crazy. And a serial killer.

Motherfucker.

"Sir, if you wish to attend this evening's soiree, I suggest you start to get ready," JARVIS said. "However, perhaps it would be best if you stay in this evening. Your day has not been that – "

"No – Jarv," Tony croaked out, slowly sitting up. "Gotta go make an appearance –"

"I do not think anyone would mind, Sir," JARVIS said. "Given the amount of alcohol consumption that is usually seen at this party, most will not remember whether or not you made an appearance –"

"Then that's where I want to be!" Tony said, untangling himself from the duvet and standing up. He was still clothed and had his shoes on – which explained part of his discomfort. As he stood, he saw he had vomited on himself at one point during the day. Scrunching his nose up, he decided that his shirt and sheets were not salvageable at all, and he quickly shed his shirt and threw it on the bed.

"JARVIS –" Tony started.

"Yes, Sir, the sheets and shirt will be removed by the time you return," JARVIS responded.

Tony nodded and started to move himself to the bathroom. Did all of that really happen? Maybe it was just a dream his drunken mind had come up with, to give him an imaginary friend to spend Christmas time with. Yeah, his mind had dreamed up the perfect man for him, and it was just a nightmare that he sent him away.

But as Tony looked himself in the mirror and saw the hickeys on his neck and the scratches on his back, Tony knew he was lying to himself.

Tony pushed his fingers into the mark on his neck and moaned at the pain. Yes, Dean was very real.

As the pain from his neck faded, Tony ignored how the pain in chest didn't.

*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*

Dean arrived at the party – sorry – _soiree_ ten minutes to 7:00. He had stopped by the motel to pick up his weapons and the earplugs. Although his dad said to bring iron, Dean tucked a small silver knife into his belt buckle and steel stake into his left boot in addition to the iron stake in his right boot. He itched to bring his gun, but it was unlikely he could hide that all night if he was working the bar. Someone would see it, and he would be at least kicked out if not arrested. He couldn't have that, especially not tonight.

He had to keep Tony safe.

As Dean pulled into the drive, a short woman with a blonde bob came running out the front door and waved at him.

"Are you Dean?" called the woman, after Dean stepped out of the car.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean replied. "Where do you want me to park?"

"Don't worry about that, the valet will take care of it," waving her hand at the teenager dressed in all red. The boy walked up to the car and held his hand out for the keys. Dean gave him a dark look that seemed to make shiver.

"If there is a scratch on her, you'll wish you got a scratch from me, got it?" Dean threatened. The valet merely gulped, and Dean reluctantly handed over the keys.

"If you are done threatening teenagers, you might want to get started hauling in the bar stuffs – once you come in, it'll be obvious where to set them," the blonde woman said, pointing to a large van filled with boxes. "Oh, and call me ma'am again, and I'll spit in your beer. My name's Dot, so use it, kay?"

"Sure thing, Dot," Dean said and started work.

As Dean worked, he checked out the caterers. There were two women who ran the business, but they weren't much for beauty. Not that they weren't pretty – Dean would've hit on them a few weeks ago had they met at a bar. But they were no siren beauties.

"They're not your type," Dot said and smirked when Dean jumped. "They'd bat for the home team, if you get my drift. Don't be thinking any funny business."

"Ah – well, I wasn't," Dean said. Dot frowned and raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him. "Truly – I mean – look, I'm in the same boat as them, if you catch _my drift_." He fibbed slightly at this, hoping that if he caught her off guard, he could get more information. Plus, he already had to explain bi-/pansexuality to his dad today: he was not in the mood to do it again for some chick he'd never see again.

Dean was right: Dot's eyes widened, and she looked slightly remorseful.

"Sorry – I, well, I shouldn't have assumed," Dot said and then laughed awkwardly. "My gaydar's usually better than this."

"No harm done," Dean replied, giving her an easy grin. "You catch me staring, I don't fit the usual profile – I get it. I was just wondering how they were going to serve everything, is all. They seem to have crates and crates of food – is it a buffet?"

"At Madame Delay's soiree?" Dot said with a mocking posh accent. "Oh, no – there will be waiters showing up very soon to take it over – Oh! Actually, here they come."

Three vans pull into the driveway, and three-dozen people exited.

At least half of them were beauties – true beauties that Dean had never seen outside of television.

Dean gave a low whistle, causing Dot to look at him.

"Are you sure they're waiters?" Dean asked her, with a smile. "They look like actors or something."

Dot threw back her head and laughed.

"You're in SoCal, Dean – what makes you think there's a difference?"

*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*

Tony arrived at the soiree at 10:30. It started at 8:00, but nobody actually expected him to be there on time. He was Tony fucking Stark: he made his own schedule.

After handing the keys to the valet, Tony entered the party. First place he headed was the bar.

Once he was able to get to the front – not that difficult as the crowds usually part for him anyway – he was stunned at the sight before him.

Dean.

"What are you doing here?" Tony asked, in voice as low as he could and still be heard above the music and chatter.

"Working," Dean replied steadily. He'd been preparing all night to see Tony, but he didn't expect to see him the way he was. The older man was already drunk and looked worse for wear, and it tore at Dean to know it was because of him. He felt like he could cry but instead he hardened his face. He was on a job – Tony's safety depended on him to not fuck it up by crying like some chick that got dumped at prom.

"Are you following me?"

"No, _dude_, I've been here since 7:00 – _working_," Dean said and continued with what he had planned out: sticking to his cover story, even for Tony. The man refused to listen to him and would maybe do something that would jeopardize the mission trying to stop him. "A friend called in sick, and it's not like I could turn down work. I didn't know you were going to be here, OK? I'll be out of your life as soon as my shift is over – speaking of which, you're holding up the line," Dean said, gesturing to the people who were frowning at the pair, clearly unhappy at being held up on their way to the alcohol train. "What do you want? Actually, are you sure you should have anything? You look pretty –"

"Bourbon double," Tony said, not wanting to hear Dean comment on his appearance or his sobriety. It just wasn't fair – how could this happen to him? He goes to a party to try and forget about Dean, and there Dean is. And not only is he there, he seems completely unpertur – unperburt – completely fine without Tony. And here Tony was, falling apart on the inside after doing the right thing and sending this crazy away from him, and the guy doesn't even have the decency of being as devastated as he was.

Dean made the bourbon reluctantly and handed it to Tony, their fingers brushing. Tony took a quick gulp of the liquor.

"Tony – I think you should –" Dean started.

"No, you don't – don't talk to me – just do your job and leave me be, or I will call the cops," Tony threatened and turned away from the bar area. He sat down at an empty table and studied the glass. His hand still felt warm from where he and Dean had touched. God fucking dammit!

"Sir – vould you like your food now?" asked a voice with a German lilt to Tony's left.

"I'm not hungr-" Tony started, and then took in the sight of the waiter next to him.

"Well, hello there – yeah, I'd love my dinner now," Tony said, mesmerized by the gorgeous creature before him. Time to turn on the charm. "How about we have dessert after? Celebrate the new year?"

"Ja, sounds vonderful. I can sing to you, lift your spirits? You look a little down. How about ve meet on da balcony in an hour? See you then, Schatzi." (1)

(1) Schatzi – German for little treasure according to the web.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight, "Call of the Sea, Come to me"

It was 11:50, and Dean still had no idea who the siren was. All of the waitresses seemed to be going about their business, not one paying special attention to anyone in particular. At any rate, Dean had his eye on the balcony door, waiting to see who came and went.

The weather had gradually grown worse over the evening, the rain not letting up since it started about 8:30ish. There was no way this crowd with their YSL and Armani were going to go out and get wet. Consequently, no one had been out on the balcony since the start of the party. Apparently Madame Delay was terribly upset, because there was a planned firework display but no one would actually want to go outside.

For Dean, it was a godsend. Whoever leaves to go outside in the gale would have to be the siren and victim. The hunter could then make his way outside and confront them without an audience. It was the perfect plan.

There was movement near the door. Dean turned his attention to it, only to see Tony Stark walk out alone.

Fucking. Balls.

"Hey Chan," Dean said to his fellow bar tender. Channing seemed like a cool kid – probably made more for the Chippendale market, as opposed to being behind the bar, but hey, who's he to judge? "Can you take over for a moment? I need a smoke break."

"In this weather?" Channing gaped, pointing to the windows, where the rain was pouring down.

"I know, it sucks, but I don't think I can listen to another order for something that's worth more than my car payment, you know?" Dean said, giving Chan a good roll of the eyes. The other man smiled and nodded sympathetically. Rich people were really ridiculous with how they burn through their money. He waved Dean off, and Dean saluted him. With a, "Thanks, dude, be back soon," Dean was off to the balcony.

He hadn't seen anyone go out except for Tony, but better safe than sorry.

When he got outside, he immediately spotted Tony at the edge of the balcony, completely drenched, Armani ruined as it clung to the man's skin. He was staring out at the sea with a glazed look on his face. But he was alone.

"Tony! What the hell are you doing?" Dean called out, stepping not out from under the veranda, keeping dry. "You need to come inside – it's God awful out here."

Tony spun on his heal, and Dean's heart dropped as he got a better look at the other's eyes. He was manic.

"Fucking, Jesus, would you leave me alone?" Tony bellowed, not moving from his spot, but his fists distinctly clenched. "Don't be a fucking cockblock – I got plans that don't involve you or your lies!" The older man turned his left and spoke to thin air. "Sorry babe, what were you saying?"

"Tony, there's no one there – you need to come in before you get sick!" Dean called out. Tony could be hallucinating, though Dean had a feeling there was someone there, the siren. Shit – why didn't Dad warn him they could be invisible?

"What the fuck are you on?" Tony yelled and wrapped his arm around – Dean was now sure was – an invisible figure. "This is Hans, and he's going to rock my world tonight, are you, doll face?

Hans? Wait – the siren was a man? Sirens were only female, meaning that he was not dealing with a siren. Fucking, shit.

It didn't matter – he had to get Tony out of there. But how? Thinking quickly, Dean decided to continue with the ignorant route. He stepped out into the rain, and pretending to be keeping his ears dry, he put in the earplugs. Immediately the sound in the area decreased, but he could still hear some. It would have to do.

"Tony, I think you've had too much to drink, there's no one there," Dean said, walking over to the man. "Let me get you inside and dry – I promise I'll leave you alone after, but you need to come with me now. Trust me, please."

"Trust you?" Dean heard – it was muffled, but obvious that Tony was screaming at him over the tempest. "You're the one who's crazy! Thinking that monsters are real and you hunt them for a living!"

Shit.

Cover blown, Dean pulled out the iron stake from his boot and charged. Although he swung at thin air, the metal hit something soft and squishy – a stomach.

Tony screamed next to him and before Dean knew better, he was tackled.

"How could you – " Tony screamed at Dean, wailing blow after blow down on the younger man. By the time Dean was able to push the older man off and grabbed his arms behind his back, the form became visible. And was laughing.

There stood a strikingly handsome man. He was tall with blond hair that flowed past his shoulders. His blue eyes with full of mirth, dark red lips smirking prominently from his alabaster skin. Easily, the creature pulled out the stake and through it to the floor.

"You thought I vas a siren, did you not?" the creature, Hans, called over the storm. "You hunters alvays da same. Go for da frau, hm? I am de Nix, not siren."

"You're OK?" Tony asked, in awe and stopped struggling to get out of Dean's hold.

"Ja, schatzi," the creature confirmed and sat on the edge of the balcony. "It vould take more than that to keep me avay from you. Vhy die vhen I have you to look fovard to, hm? Come to me, Tony, my schatzi. Together, ve leave this vorld full of pain and heartache. Come to me."

Fully entranced, Tony struggled to get out of Dean's hold, but the combination of the younger man's strength, the slipperiness of the balcony, and Tony's own drunkenness, he was unable to gain proper footing.

"Let me go, Dean!" Tony cried. "I need to go –"

"No – No, Tony, please!" Dean yelled, holding on to Tony with all his might. "He wants to drown you! I love you, you gotta stay!"

The creature laughed at the antics before him.

"Do you think dat you can keep him from me?" the creature crooned, swaying on the balcony playfully. "His love for you is gone and replaced by his devotion to me. I vould not have called to him, had you not made him dissatisfied so. Here he is so much unhappy. Let him come to me. Let go."

And Dean nearly did. Despite the earplugs, the Nix's lyrical voice reached Dean's ears. He was immediately struck with the compulsion to release Tony and let him go on his merry way... to his death.

Dean strengthened his grip on Tony and started to drag the older man to the door.

The Nix's smile dropped and the storm increased, pounding rain onto the men.

"How dare you defy me?" the creature screamed, sliding from the balcony's edge and onto his feet. He did not move closer, however. "Dat man belongs to me and da sea. I need him! You have no claim to him anymore! You gave him avay! Come Anthony, come to me."

Tony put up a bigger struggle, and with the rain, Dean almost lost his grip. Almost.

"Tony, no – you can't," Dean yelled as he struggled with the older man. "You'll die, don't you understand! I love you, I will always love you – I can't let you die!"

Tony gave out a screech but nothing more as he continued to fight off Dean's grip.

Interestingly enough, the Nix didn't move one bit to try and take Tony away from Dean. He just stayed there by the balcony, waving his hands as if trying to pull Tony to him through an invisible force, like a mime pulling a rope, and began to sing. His voice, that Dean had moments ago thought was serene and beautiful, now sounded foul and off-key. That wasn't what bothered Dean most though. Why was the Nix just standing there? The creature was looking desperate, his eyes wild – yet, no attempt to move forward, as if he needed Tony to come to him willingly –

Ah! Maybe that was it? Dad had said it looked like some sort of ritual. Maybe the victims needed to agree to be sacrificed and to come of their own will – or rather walk to them, since their free will was compromised? Fuck he hated stupid rituals – they didn't make any fucking sense.

Yet, what Dean did know was that the deaths all occurred before midnight. If his gut was right, as long as he kept Tony away from the edge, Tony would be safe.

The singing became louder and the tempest stronger; but over the rush of the rain drops and the screeching vocals, Dean could hear something in the background.

"TEN!"

The countdown!

"NINE!"

The Nix's song became louder, and Tony struggled harder.

"EIGHT!"

Dean lost his grip.

"SEVEN!"

Tony stood, but Dean grabbed his ankles.

"SIX!"

Tony fell forward and twisted onto his back trying to break from Dean's grip.

"FIVE!"

Dean leapt up Tony's body and straddled him, pinning his arms.

"FOUR!"

Tony screamed but was unable to break free.

"THREE!"

Dean leant down, peppering kisses all over Tony's face.

"TWO!"

Dean starts to kiss Tony's lips.

"ONE!"

Tony kisses back.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

"No!" the Nix screeched.

Dean and Tony looked up and watched in amazement as the Nix melted into nothingness, like suddenly every molecule of its body became water. The remnants of the creature washed away.

Dean sagged in relief on top of Tony, nestling his head into the older man's neck.

"What the fuck just happened?" Tony exclaimed, hugging Dean tighter into himself.

Dean lifted his head and laughed.

"I told you I hunt monst –" Dean started to say, but stopped when a screech was heard, unlike the ones that had come from the water spirit.

The veranda buckled under the weight of the water and the strength of the wind. Before there was enough time to move, the metal and fabric came down on the men.

The last thing Tony remembered was Dean spreading his body to cover him, and one of the polls coming down and smacking Tony hard on the head.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine, "Shovel Talk"

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Slowly, Tony opened his eyes only to close them quickly to keep them from the brightness. He moved his arms to block the fluorescent beams still coming though his eyelids, only to feel annoying tugs when he did so. This made him open his eyes to see what was going on.

Through his blurry vision, Tony could tell he was in a hospital room. His hand had a pulse monitor and an IV stuck in it. He let his head fall back into the scratchy pillows and groaned.

Fuck, his head was pounding.

"Hey, Tony – it's OK," a feminine voice from his right. Tony looked over, and there was Pepper. She looked upset – why would she? Oh, he was in the hospital. Right. "How are you feeling?"

"Uh, like I" cough "been hit with" cough "a hammer," Tony croaked. "Water?"

Pepper immediately reached for a cup of water with a straw and put the straw to his lips. Tony swallowed the indignity of the situation along with the cool, cool water that eased his dry throat.

"You might as well have been – hit by a hammer, I mean," the redhead said. "The awning on the balcony came down on you hard. The bartender tried to move you out of the way, but it was too fast, and you got it on the head with a metal bar."

"Bartender?" Tony repeated groggily.

"Yes, a bartender had gone out to smoke – though why he would in this weather, I'll never understand – and he realized the veranda was coming down," Pepper explained. "He tried to push you out of the way, but it was too late. He was still conscious when they pulled the awning off you both and refused medical treatment – said he didn't have insurance, and he was sure it was just bruises, anyway. If I'd been there, I would have offered to have Stark Industries pay for it, but he was already gone by that time. Seemed to not like the limelight. Very strange."

As Pepper finished speaking, all of the memories of the previous night came back to Tony.

Dean. His Dean. And Hans. Feelings of overpowering lust. Compulsion to go out into the terrible weather – the storm – an overwhelming need to do exactly as Hans said and jump. Jump off the balcony. Not caring he would die. And Dean. Dean coming and stabbing Hans. Tony tackling him and hitting him only to see Hans was OK – _the hole in his stomach healing after the stake was pulled out!_ Hans trying again to get Tony to jump, but Dean holding him back, kissing him. The moment of clarity, the fog being lifted, and Tony kissing Dean back. Hearing the yell only to see Hans – once a beautiful man, now a haggard old creature – melting into the rain. The awning coming down in the storm, and Dean trying to cover Tony from the brunt of it. And the darkness.

"Tony? Tony?" Pepper called, bringing Tony out of the onslaught of memories. "You look out of it still – they said you have a concussion. I should call the doctor –"

"No!" Tony exclaimed and sat up fully. "I need to go, Pepper. Are my clothes here? What time – day is it?"

"It's the first, Tony, 9 AM," Pepper said, trying to push him back on the bed. "The doctors want you to stay until the afternoon for observation, to monitor the concussion –"

"No, Pep, I'm fine – just a headache, I'll take some Tylenol, and it'll be good," Tony said, pushing Pepper back and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. "So where are my clothes? Pepper? _Miss Potts_?"

Pepper looked like she was struggling with herself until finally she sighed.

"Fine," she exasperated. "Your clothes from last night are ruined – both from the buckets of rain – which, by the way, why the hell were you outside in that gale? – and from the ER team cutting them off you. I brought some of your clothes with me – they're in the closet." She crossed her arms and glared at him. "You fall dead from a brain clot, because you left here too soon – don't think I'm going to pick up after you."

"Love you, too, Pep!" Tony replied cheerily and started to pull off all the monitors and IV out. "So where's my car?"

"I had it towed, so you'll need to call a car – or rather, I'll call you one," Pepper sighed, getting her phone out. "I have to go handle the press on this situation – they're trying to say you were trying to kill yourself – Did you know that there were three other men you killed themselves in the past week? You – you weren't, were you?"

"No, no, no, no!" Tony insisted, putting a comforting hand on Pepper's arm, and he was being truthful. He had not intended to kill himself – it was that, that _thing_ that had made him almost – He shuddered. "Pepper, I may have self-destructive tendencies, but I'll never intentionally try to end my life, I promise you. I'm way too awesome –"

At that moment, several doctors and nurses rushed into the room frantic, cutting Tony off. To say they glared when they realized that it was a patient going AMA(1) and not into cardiac arrest, would be a vast understatement. As punishment, they bogged Tony down in paperwork, stating he knew he was going AMA and that he couldn't sue if he had further complications, blah, blah, blah.

Tony could have signed away his company, he signed so many pages without reading the copy. At that moment, he didn't care. Tony just needed to find Dean – and quickly, before the younger man disappeared.

Tony would never forgive himself if he didn't see Dean again and apologize.

*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*

Dean drove away from the soiree bruised and battered both in body and heart. The paramedics had been insistent that he go to the hospital, but Dean had refused. Yeah his sides ached something terrible, but he could handle it. Tony was the one that mattered – the one who needed immediate medical attention.

Even Dean attempting to cover Tony couldn't prevent the metal coming hard and fast down on the older man's head. Trapped by the remnants of the awning that slammed into his ribs, badly, Dean couldn't do anything but call for help and feel Tony's heartbeat. The bum-bum, bum-bum was the only thing that kept Dean from completely breaking down there in the rain. Tony had to be OK. He just had to be.

People came outside immediately after the awning fell – the crash being louder than the rain and celebrations. And by people, Dean meant the waiters and bar staff, because goodness knows they couldn't possibly get their Valentino wet! Channing led the pack of good Samaritans, proving those muscles weren't just for show. Within five minutes, Dean and Tony were free, and Tony was being carried and set on the couch – much to the distress of Madam Delay. The woman was hysterical, about how the whole _soiree_ was ruined and that, _that spoiled brat Stark_ was ruining her Lexington Upholstery Salon Sofa (2).

Soon, the ambulance and police arrived, and Dean gave his statement – only after being assured that Tony was most likely fine: probable concussion, very unlikely there was brain damage. The police – thankfully not the ones Dean had met that morning – decided that it was obviously an accident, brought on by hurricane-force winds. They let Dean go easily. The paramedics, on the other hand... Only the statement that he _had no insurance_ and was not going to go _into so much debt for some bruises_ finally got them off his back.

Going to the hospital was not an option for various reasons.

Most obvious was his lack of insurance: he wasn't lying when he spoke to the paramedics. He had none under any of his identities. Usually he'd just pay with a stolen credit card, which wasn't an option this time. Which comes to reason number two: the press. If even half the stories Tony had told him were true about his dealings with the press, then there was no way that Dean could put himself in the position of being found out; and that meant getting as far away from where the vultures would be hanging about. So, he left as soon as the officers let him go, passing a few news vans on his way out, and avoided the hospital, which was sure to have press snooping around.

If those reasons weren't reason enough to not go on to the hospital, the fact that Tony was there was reason enough. Dean had promised the man that he would leave as soon as the monster was done with and had no intention of going back on his word. Yet... even he would admit that reason was a thin one considering everything that happened the night before.

'Coward' kept being whispered about his mind.

Tony seemed to have this innate sense on how to push Dean's buttons. It made their sex fantastic, but also made his rejection feel like daggers to the chest. Ok, call Dean a yellow-bellied coward, but he didn't think he could survive another rejection by Tony, especially after Dean saved him last night. The hunter had no idea how Tony was thinking now, after having been though the ordeal with the Nix. The dash of hope he had carried that once he had shown a monster to Tony that Tony would take him back was all but extinguished.

Tony was in the _hospital_. He had almost _died_. How could the man think Dean was anything but a freak that needed to be stayed away from?

After what felt like forever, Dean pulled into the motel parking lot. It was past 0300, and he planned to just get into his room and collapse on the bed. After locking up Baby, he dragged himself to the motel room. As he was putting the key into the lock, the door opened, startling Dean nearly out of his skin.

There stood John Winchester. And he did not look happy.

"Hey Dad," Dean said, unsure of what to say. What was the old man doing here?

"Don't 'hey dad' me, Dean – you look like shit," John snarked worriedly and moved out of the doorway.

"Nice to see you too," Dean mumbled and entered the room sluggishly. "How did you find me?"

"This was the only cheap motel in the city and it didn't take much to figure out which room from the staff," John sighed and made his way to the bathroom. "Shirt off and spill. I'll get the first aid kit."

Dean regaled John of his day and evening as John wrapped his ribs and made him take a pain killer.

"Fucking Nix – there's always something," John muttered at the end of the tale, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

They sat there on the side of the bed silently after that statement, neither sure of what to say. Finally Dean gave into his urge to lean into his dad and put his head on John's shoulder. The younger Winchester was rewarded with his father's arm across his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"Why did you come?" Dean asked, murmuring into John's flannel shirt. "I thought you said I was on my own if this went south."

"Yeah, well that was before you called me all pathetic like," John replied, squeezing Dean tighter to him, offsetting his gruff words. "Got on the road right after that. Not sure what I could do, but I knew I had to see if I could help. And look at you, took on the monster only to get taken down by some overhanging contraption. Luckily those ribs don't feel broken – probably just really bruised."

John paused for a moment and then sighed and put his head down on Dean's.

"And – fuck, Dean I'm no good with words or chick flick moments, but I know you got to be hurting, and not just from those ribs," John continued. "Did you know there was a moment when your mom and I were separated?" Dean gasped. "Yeah, I know, I've never talked about it, but we had come together so quickly like a love spell or something and got married, that we never really got to know each other. We had you almost immediately, and we were learning so much about parenthood and ourselves that we had a brief falling out. I moved out, but I called every day, begging to come home. I'm man enough to admit it. And in the end, she let me, and we were all the better for it. We ended up making Sam and – it was great."

"Why are you telling me this?" Dean asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact his parents' marriage wasn't as ideal as he had thought.

"Because, Dean, if this – this _thing_ with your guy is worth fighting for, then fight," John replied. "This morning, you willingly went against my wishes because you believed it was worth it. You told me, knowing I would be confused and angry, because you believed it was worth it. And yeah, you guys had a tiff, but that doesn't mean you just quit."

"It's more than a _tiff_, dad," Dean exasperated. "It's not like I didn't go to the dry cleaners or he found my Asian porn collection! He saw my arrest records and thought I was _a brainwashed, insane serial killer_ and told me he never wanted to see me again –"

"But now he knows better, doesn't he? He got a wide-eyed look of the supernatural and hunting in action" John countered and face-palmed with his free hand. "And please never mention your collection to me again – how could I raise a son that wouldn't prefer good ole American pussy mags, I'll never know."

Dean laughed tiredly. His dad would never change.

"What I'm saying is, Dean – I'm going up to Oregon tomorrow," John continued. "There's this guy up there convinced he found vampires – which is completely stupid, because we all know they're extinct. I'm going up and gonna prove that it's some other bloodsucker. You're free to come with. But if you wanna stay, and – go after your guy, then it's fine kid."

"How are you so cool with this?" Dean asked. "You were so upset when – when Sammy left, and now I'll maybe be leaving for – for not even a girl, but a _man_. I thought you would be through the roof."

"I'm not saying I'm happy, Dean, but I had a long time to think about it from Denver to here," John replied. "You're my partner, and a good one at that. But you're my son first, and I – I want you to be happy, OK? And – this is completely different than – than Sam, OK? The little shit was ungrateful after everything I – but you Dean – I know I wasn't a great father. I did my best Dean, but I fucked up. I made you grow up too soon. You went without so many things, and I'm sorr- I wish I hadn't made it so hard on you. But you put up with everything without complaint. You took care of Sammy – fuck, you took care of me too many times. Always telling me it'll be OK." John pulled Dean in tighter to his chest. "I guess it's my turn to tell you – It'll be OK. You deserve something for yourself. You're going to be 24 real soon, Dean, and if you want to settle down, how can I get all that upset? I was married and already had you by that age. If this Tony is as wonderful as you say he is, then go for it, son."

"Thanks, Dad," Dean said, choked up and not able to prevent the tears coming down his face. It had been such an emotional day – God, had it only been a day? He had woke up in Tony's arms, came out to his father, been found out and thrown out by Tony, hunted a Nix, saved Tony's life, been nearly killed by an awning – and now his Dad had basically apologized for Dean's childhood and given Dean is blessing to pursue Tony.

"Plus – Tony Stark, huh? You could do worse," John teased. Dean, surprised, pulled himself away from John's embrace to look the man in the eye.

"How the hell did you know that?" Dean asked. "I didn't even know who he was before he told me –"

"Well, after you said he was afraid of the press, I knew it had to be someone famous," John replied, amused. "I called up Bobby and had him do research on famous Tony's in Malibu. Tony Stark was the only one who fit the bill. You sure know how to pick 'em, kid."

Dean groaned and leaned back into his father's shoulder, ignoring the rumbling laughter coming from the man. After a minute, once John stopped laughing, Dean asked the question that plagued his heart.

"How do I know he won't reject me again?" Dean whispered.

"You don't – and you won't until you try," John replied. "And if does? Screw him. And you'll get to see your old man put some green hunter his place about vampires."

Dean gave out a soft laugh at that.

*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*

Tony stepped out of the car with some trepidation. It had been easy enough to find Dean – well, after JARVIS reminded him that he'd installed the A.I. in Dean's car and thus JARVIS knew where the man was. It was the most destitute motel that Tony had ever seen, and to be honest, he was surprised that there was a motel like this in Malibu.

It made Tony's heart clench to know it was places like this that Dean had grown up in. The overwhelming urge to tuck Dean into him and take him away from these places forever overtook Tony. If he was successful, then that is exactly what he will do.

Feeling assured that Dean was still here, based on the Impala being out front, Tony took a breath and made his way over to the door. He raised his hand to knock, only to have the door open by not-Dean.

A tall man, who oozed danger out of every pore stood there looking so, so not happy.

"Uh, I think I have the wrong room," Tony started and took a step back when the man exited the room, closing the door behind him.

"Nah, you don't," the man said and leant against the wall, crossing his arms. God his muscles were huge. "You Stark?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?" Tony said, alarm bells going off in his mind. He had seen a variety of characters in his lifetime, but this guy – fuck, if this guy didn't top the list in natural intimidation.

"Everything," the man said and played with the handle of the knife on his belt. "Because that means you're the one that broke my boy's heart."

"Shit," Tony said, realizing that he was standing in front of John Henry Winchester, a man who had a longer rap sheet than Dean and more importantly – was _Dean's father_. Tony had never been a meet the parents kind of guy and wasn't it just his luck that the first time he did would be under these circumstances. "Look, I don't know what Dean told you –"

"He told me everything," John replied, his hard gaze burning into Tony's. "Give me one reason, just one, to let you see him. Because you know what? If I had my way, you would be a bloody pulp right now wishing you were dead, and Dean and I would be on our merry way. I may have never murdered, Stark, but I'd make an exception for someone who hurt my son. And you have done a fucking number on him. So yeah, give me one reason. I'm waiting."

"Look, I get it, I'm an asshole, but you got to admit, it's something that's hard to believe –" at John's look, Tony changed his tactic. "I love Dean – I'm in love with Dean. And what I did – I just need apologize to him. Whether he forgives me is up to him, but I'd never forgive myself if I didn't apologize and try to win him back. I owe him everything – he saved my life last night, even though I hurt him. We've only known each other a week – and I get that's so quick, but I've never felt anything like this. And yeah, it's going to be difficult for us, because of the press and shit, but I'm willing to work through it for him – for us. I just need to see him."

John continued to look at him silently after Tony ended his speech, and Tony felt like he was six inches tall. Finally John began to speak again.

"I don't like you," John said and Tony's heart sunk. "You're too old for him. You have a reputation. You're short. You are way too much in the public eye. You're a man – which I don't give a shit about, but it'll make y'all's lives harder. You've only known each other for a week. There are so many reasons why this is a shitty idea.

"But, you know what?" John continued. "It doesn't matter what I think. Dean's a grown man now, and you don't need my permission."

Tony just stared at the man, taken aback by the sudden about-face.

"Just know this, Stark," John said and put his hands on Tony's shoulders, looking him in the eye. "If you hurt him again, not even hell-hounds will keep me from your neck" he rubbed his thumbs against Tony's neck, and the younger man couldn't help the gulp that escaped him. "You'll regret ever hearing the name Winchester, you understand?"

Tony nodded, for the first time in his life, speechless.

"Good," John said and let go of Tony and began making his way to a huge pick-up truck a couple spaces down from the Impala. "He's sleeping, so don't try to wake him. And be careful, his ribs are bruised. And let him know I'm going to that place we talked about and he's missing out."

Tony nodded dumbly and watched with relief as John Winchester got into the truck and drove off. God, if that's what all meeting-the-parents are like, no wonder people made a big deal how horrible it was. At least Dean wouldn't have to go through it.

Dean.

Tony spun around walked back up to the door. Taking to heart what John had said, Tony didn't knock but opened the door slowly.

The room was dark, but Tony could make out the distinctive Dean-shaped lump on one of the beds. Quietly, he closed the door and made his way over to the younger man – and did he ever look younger. He looked like a teenager when he was asleep, so innocent to the world.

Tony's head began to throb, the adrenaline from meeting the folks – was it folk if it was singular? – causing the headache that had plagued him earlier to renew. He decided to lay down next to Dean and did so gently so as not to wake him. It didn't work, however.

Dean fidgeted and then turned to see Tony attempting to be the big spoon.

"Tony!" Dean gasped and tried to turn over, only to gasp again, but this time at the pain in his ribs.

"Shh, shh, don't move," Tony insisted and hugged Dean to his chest. "It's OK."

Tony kissed Dean's hair and behind his ear.

"I'm so sorry, Dean that I didn't believe you," Tony said, rubbing Dean's chest near his heart and nuzzling his neck. "I was such an asshole – yeah it was way out there, but I should have given you a chance to prove it to me, not just throw you out. I'm going to do what I can to make up for it, whatever you want. I fucked up, I know that, but there is no price I won't pay –"

"I want you to hold me," Dean said, holding back his tears only barely. "And then I want to go home. With you. We'll talk everything out later, but can we do that now?"

"We can do that," Tony said, bringing Dean closer to him, being careful with his ribs. "We can most definitely do that, sunshine."

(1)AMA – Against Medical Advice. If you leave the hospital when the doctors don't want you to in America, you have to sign a lot of forms saying you won't sue them if your health goes downhill after you leave.

(2)Super expensive sofa – google, if you want an image.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten, "Salt Lines, Not Rose Petals"

Tony and Dean laid there in the motel bed until past noon, both falling in and out of dozes and enjoying the warmth and comfort they felt from the other. Eventually, Dean slowly turned around so he was facing his lover. Placing his ear to Tony's chest, Dean listened to Tony's heartbeat, the bum-bum bum-bum easing his own heart.

"I almost lost you," Dean said into Tony's chest and inhaled, letting Tony's musk wash over him. "Three times, yesterday. First when you told me to leave, second when the Nix nearly made you jump, and then when that damn pipe came down. And underneath all of that metal and canvas, I was trapped with you, unable to do anything. The only reason I knew you were alive was because I could feel your heartbeat, but I just –" and then he choked up, unable to say anything further.

"It's OK – I'm OK," Tony comforted, pulling Dean gently closer, minding his rips, until Dean was half covering the older man. "I am so, so sorry that I didn't believe you or give you a chance to explain. It's crazy – utterly crazy – but I can't deny it's not true, not after last night. And even though part of me wants so much for all of that to have been a hallucination – because the alternative is – _fucking hell how can all that be real?_ – but I'm glad – I'm grateful, so grateful you still saved me – that you still cared, after everything – I've never had someone who cared – I'm so sorry –" and it was Tony's turn to choke up, and he rubbed his face into Dean's hair, tears finally falling. It had been such an emotional 24 hours.

They continued to hold each other, and after a moment, Dean started to kiss Tony's chest through his T-shirt, slowly making his way up to the older man's neck and then cheeks, kissing the tears away. He then looked Tony in the eyes for the first time since last night. Green met brown, and Dean saw the regret and more importantly the love in those brown pools. All the angst from the day before melted away until all he felt was love.

"I forgive you," Dean said and gave Tony a chaste kiss, and then put his head on the pillow next to Tony's so they were cheek to cheek. "To be honest, I didn't blame you much. It sounds impossible and there was so much evidence against me –"

"I still should have let you day your case," Tony interrupted, placing a soft kiss on Dean's cheek. "I think – I was so high on – love is the only word for it – that when I found out – I just crashed. The other shoe dropped. The rug was taken out from under me – and it was like, for once I thought I could have something nice – tricked myself into thinking so, and then was smacked in the face for it."

"I'm sorry I lied," Dean started, but Tony shushed him.

"Please let me finish," Tony said and began to stroke Dean's back with his free hand. "I didn't say that to make you apologize, because you really shouldn't. You had to keep it from me, because if you hadn't, we wouldn't have gotten to know each other properly. What I'm trying to say is that I reacted so strongly, because I –" He then turned his head, so he was staring into Dean's beautiful jade eyes. God, they were the most gorgeous he'd ever seen. Tony could do it. He could say the words. "I'm – I'm in love with you. I'm in love with you, Dean Winchester. I've never felt this way before –"

Dean moved in and kissed Tony hard.

"I'm in love with you, too," Dean said after a minute of kissing. "And that's why I couldn't just skip town. Even before I thought there was a chance that the monster would go after you, I thought if I could just prove it to you, you would take me back. You were worth the trouble – are worth the trouble." He kissed Tony again and then grimaced. "How about we go home? Your bed is much nicer."

"Oh, I see – you just want me for my California king (1) and 1000 count Egyptian cotton sheets," Tony joked, but slowly extricated himself from Dean and the bed, and then helped the younger man stand. Dean flinched at the movements, causing Tony to become concerned.

"Are you sure your ribs aren't broken?" Tony asked worriedly as he steadied Dean.

"Yeah," Dean grunted. "Just – really bruised. I've had worse."

"Somehow that doesn't comfort me," Tony replied, but commented no further. He helped Dean pack up the room – which didn't take that long, and soon made their way to the Impala. After throwing the duffle in the trunk, Tony closed it only to find Dean getting into the driver's side.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Tony exclaimed, marching over to Dean and stopping him before he could close the door. "You are so not driving right now with those ribs."

"Dude, I may not be angry at the whole not believing me, but if you think I'm going to let you anywhere near my Baby – except as a passenger – after what you did, installing JARVIS without my permission when I told you specifically I wanted no modifications to her – well that pipe must have hit you harder than I thought," Dean said, glaring slightly at the older man who looked a bit sheepish. Even so, Tony stood his ground.

"OK – my bad, but seriously, Sunshine, why don't you let me drive?" Tony insisted. "Your ribs may not be broken, but your reaction time is going to be off – you wouldn't want her hurt because you were hurting, would you?"

"Nice try, now let me close the door before I slam it on your fingers," Dean snarked.

Tony sighed and did as told. He then went to the passenger side and got in. After Dean started the ignition and put his hand on the gearshift, Tony covered it with his own. Smiling at one another, with ACDC blaring from the speakers, they went home.

*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*ACDC*

When the two arrived back at the Malibu mansion, there were no hot mouths on skin or tearing off of clothes like there had been a week earlier. Instead, Dean leant on Tony both because of how exhausted and hurting he was and just to feel close to the man. Dean had them go to the trunk of the Impala and popped it open. Tony took out the duffle and made to close it when Dean stopped him.

"Now that you know, you should see this," Dean said and lifted the false bottom.

Tony was instantly amazed at the various weapons and items in the trunk. With a quick glance, he became annoyed.

"Hey – you don't have any Stark guns in here," Tony noticed and pouted.

Dean laughed and grabbed salt, holy water, and a shotgun and its bullets. He then closed the trunk and indicated he was ready to go inside. Tony huffed but acquiesced.

"Shit, man – I guess I had heard of you before we met, and I hadn't remembered," Dean said, and Tony perked up at that. "Your guns are legendary – hunters hate them." Instantly, Tony was down again.

"Why's that?" Tony asked. Yeah there were some gun nuts who preferred other brands and wouldn't put Tony's first – but on the whole? Nobody who knows guns actually _hates_ Stark guns. What was this blasphemy? "They are the best on the market, made of an advanced alloy –"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dean interrupted, smirking. "That's the problem – they are too good – they can't be modified and have to use Stark ammo. Basically, a dud in the hunter world. Whereas this" and Dean referred to his Winchester sawed-off shotgun "was easy to modify and use our ammo."

"What were the modifications and ammo?" Tony asked, genuinely curious. He decided not to be upset that a whole community apparently hated his guns and was going to go the positive route and take it as a compliment that his guns were 'too good'.

"Well, for one thing, can't saw it off," Dean said. "Which is important because we have to conceal them. We use the shotgun mainly for ghosts and other creatures that are affected by salt. See" and he pullout one of the shotgun shells and opened it revealing salt. "We also use silver bullets against werewolves/shifters and wrought iron against a whole lot of baddies. We usually make them ourselves or buy them from another hunter who makes them. Head someone tried to put a silver bullet in a Stark pistol, and it jammed the gun. Guy got mauled by a werewolf, but that's what he gets for not testing it out before going out on a hunt. Anyways, since then we just avoid Stark guns."

Tony's mind was spinning and not because the supernatural was real – well maybe a little – but of the modifications he could make to his own weapons that would fit with the needs of hunters. He could make the guns already cut off, make rounds that can be modified – heck, he could form some company that manufactures silver bullets and readymade salt rounds and have a monopoly on the hunter market –

"Yo, Babe," Dean said, bring Tony back to the present. "I can already see the cogs turning. How about we shelf plans for Stark weapons with hunter modifications until tomorrow. Right now I'm hungry. How about you heat up that lasagna I made day before yesterday, and I'll make my way to the bedroom, and we'll eat and watch some trashy daytime TV and just mellow. Let's leave everything else for tomorrow when I don't feel as rough."

"OK," Tony agreed and hesitated about letting Dean go by himself. Dean seemed to sense that and waved a hand, shooing the other man to the kitchen.

Tony did as told and heated up the lasagna easily and grabbed two beers – because, hell, how had he made through this crazy day without any alcohol yet? – and went to the bedroom. Instead of finding Dean already propped up on the bed, his lover was lining the windows with salt.

"I'm used to rose petals, not saltlines, sunshine," Tony joked, setting the plates on the bed and beers on the nightstand. "Want to explain?"

"Salt keeps away all manner of baddies, including spirits and demons," Dean explained, finished with the wall to wall windows and moving on to the doorway. "I'm sure you can figure out a better way to have a salt ring, but this is the way I was taught."

"You think something is going to come after us?" Tony asked, who was less freaked out by the process than he thought he should have been.

"Dunno, but it's good to be prepared, especially since I'm not on my A game now," Dean replied and finished with the doorway. He then turned to Tony, his eyes worrying. "Look, if this is too much – I understand if –"

Tony took Dean's head in his hands and kissed him soundly and then pulled him into a firm hug, being careful with Dean's ribs.

"I meant what I said at the motel," Tony said, playing with the hair on the back of Dean's head. "I love you, Dean Winchester. Yeah, we are going to have to go through a lot to get this to work – especially with your record – I'm going have to create a new identity for you and – And we'll have to figure out how best to protect ourselves – Look. My point is: I love you. Let's eat the lasagna before I have to heat it up again, which would just be ew –"

Dean turned his face and kissed Tony, briefly.

"So we're cool?" Dean asked, still wanting confirmation.

"Yeah, Sunshine, we're cool," Tony replied, smiling.

(1) A California King is a mattress bigger than a king-seized mattress.

AN: Glad to have received so many good reviews! Stay tuned for the next fic in this series, "Carry On My Wayward Son (or how John Winchester found a son-in-law in Tony Stark)".


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